


Hidden in Plain Sight

by Shadow_Riser



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Dark Mark, Dead Father - Freeform, Death Eaters, Grey Harry, Harry Grows Up, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Horcruxes, Lily raises Harry, OCs - Freeform, Powerful Harry, Sane Voldemort, Smart Harry, Voldemort never died
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5797756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Riser/pseuds/Shadow_Riser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lily Potter receives a warning not to let Voldemort find out about her child; Voldemort goes to kill Neville Longbottom on Halloween, but he did not realise how unstable his soul was, which lead to a complication that weighs on his mind even as he succeeds in taking over Wizarding Britain. Follow the highly intelligent Harry as he makes his way through a Voldemort-ruled Hogwarts, the danger of discovery at every corner ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Voldemort stepped back as Severus Snape almost collapsed, his master having just torn through his memory of overhearing the prophecy.

"The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches . . . Born to those who have thrice defied him . . . Born as the seventh month dies." The Dark Lord paced, seemingly unaware of Snape hovering in the background. "Only two couples have 'thrice defied me' . . . Tell me, Severus, are the Longbottoms or the Potters expecting a child?"

"Not that I know of, my lord," Snape replied after a short pause. If one looked closely, they would see his face had turned ashen.

Voldemort nodded, and motioned for Snape to leave him. He would have to keep an eye on these Order members . . . But wasn't Potter's wife a mudblood? Anything resulting from that coupling would be a half-blood as opposed to the pureblood Longbottoms . . . But, after all, as was he . . .

Over the next few months, the war progressed. Slowly but surely, victory by victory, the Death eaters were taking over the country; the ministry was falling, and so when Bellatrix came rushing into the Dark Lord's headquarters shouting that "the Longbottoms have a child!" in the early hours of August, Voldemort smiled. He would kill the child - it was unfortunate that the Longbottoms were in hiding, but his spies would find them soon enough - and then there would be nothing standing in his way except Dumbledore.

Voldemort was unaware that as July ended, another magical child had been born; Lily Potter had been warned by an anonymous letter to keep any children secret, and so had kept her pregnancy and childbirth hidden.

However, the Potters were great friends with the Longbottoms, and tried to visit often; their sons, Harry and Neville, played together happily, watched over by Augusta Longbottom when the younger members were fighting.

So when, on Halloween night of 1981, Voldemort approached the Longbottom house - the fidelius charm was useless now he had tortured the secret out of the keeper - there were two boys there, guarded only by the aging Augusta.

The Dark Lord smirked as he realised the door was not even locked. He entered, scanning the room; Augusta was dozing in an armchair by the fire, while a dark-haired, slightly chubby boy played with the dirt from a flowerpot.

" _Avada Kedavra,_ " Voldemort hissed, killing Augusta quickly. The flash of light made the boy look up in interest, but he had no time to do anything but gape before Voldemort repeated the killing curse, watching in pleasure as the baby's eyes went blank.

Feeling his soul tear from the act, Voldemort took out the artifact he'd chosen to hold his soul from his pocket - a silver bracelet carved like a snake, believed to have been Slytherin's - and focused on moving a part of his soul into it.

But he hadn't realised how unstable and out of control his soul was; instead of making its way into the object, the piece of soul splintered off in another direction, heading towards the empty crib in the corner - no, wait, something moved - Voldemort stared in horror as he felt his soul piece bury itself in something else - someone else - and blinked as the face of another dark-haired baby, this one with thinner with bright green eyes, lifted its head sleepily to look at Voldemort. As he watched, a small, lightning-shaped scar appeared on the child's forehead where the soul piece had struck him.

As Voldemort was processing the fact that a child was now his horcrux, the floo lit up and James Potter stepped through.

"How've they been, Aug-" he stopped short and his eyes widened at the tall, pale figure standing in the middle of the room. His eyes instantly darted around the room, resting with anguish on the form of Neville before softening in relief as he spied his son standing up in the crib.

He didn't have long to be relieved before Voldemort's killing curse sped towards him, James barely managing to duck it. Frank and Alice Longbottom, followed by Lily Potter, tumbled out of the floo one by one, their faces going through the same emotions as James', although Voldemort noted with glee the absolute despair on the Longbottoms' faces.

The Dark Lord failed to notice Lily Potter edging towards her son as he dueled them, only realising what she was doing when she ran towards the floo, Harry in her arms. His roar of rage caused his three duelers to stumble back, and he narrowed his eyes in concentration, no longer playing. He took out Frank with an organ-expelling curse, easily hitting Alice with an _Imperio_ as she stared at her fallen husband in disbelief. James was unprepared for an attack from Alice too, and was handicapped by not being able to hurt his friend.

" _Bombarda_ ," Voldemort whispered, and the floor underneath James exploded, killing both him and Alice. Voldemort's red eyes gleamed in triumph before he remembered his horcrux was gone.

The Dark Lord Apparated back to his headquarters and, in the night's meeting, gave the order to find and capture Lily Potter as soon as possible.

But in the months that followed, even as the Death Eaters took over the ministry, as Voldemort tricked Dumbledore into a trap and hit him with a withering curse, as Dumbledore died a year later - there was no sign of Lily Potter or her son.

And five years later, as Voldemort stood in Hogwart's Great Hall, the Lord of Wizarding Britain, his thoughts turned to the small black-haired baby.

He would keep looking. And Harry Potter would be found.

_Or else._


	2. The Wandmaker

Diagon Alley was very crowded at the end of August; with less than a week until the Hogwarts term started, parents and guardians were hurriedly doing last-minute shopping for their children.

Because of this, the mother and her eleven-year-old child went unnoticed among the throng. Which was why Lily Potter - or Ellian Evans, as she was now - had chosen that day to take Harry shopping.

In the years following the Dark Lord's ascension to power, wizarding Britain had become closed off to the rest of the world; Lily had been unable to flee the country, and so had changed her identity instead, working as a simple seamstress in Madame Malkin's, adopting a pretense of being an uneducated, magically weak witch, whose only talent lay in robemaking.

Lily was not as horrified at the Dark Lord's Britain as she had once thought she would be. Muggleborns were taken from their families, put into care and adopted, but there was little prejudice against them. Every child had to go to Hogwarts - so Voldemort knew the next generation, Lily had mused - but there were more graded examinations, meaning a child could leave after third year if they so wished to, or continue with education into their twenties. The wizarding world was prosperous, calm, busy and safe - with brutal punishments to lawbreakers, crime had decreased dramatically. Or so the statistics said.

However, the attractive aspects of Voldemort's new world did not change the fact that he was still hunting her and Harry - why, she still did not know for certain, except that it must have something to do with the prophecy - and she would still occasionally see an old wanted poster with her younger face on stuck to a wall, which was always an unwelcome reminder of the danger they were in.

Lily had not wanted to send Harry to Hogwarts, where it was rumored the Nation's leader spent much of his time, but Harry - or Harrikon Evans as he was known now - had been insistent. Harry had had no friends while growing up, spending his days flying and making up imaginary companions, and it was this which weakened Lily's argument; how could she take possible friendships away from him? They had their aliases, and Harry did not bear as much resemblance to his father as he had now she had corrected his vision - with her own spell, created after much trial and error - and not like her either with his bright green eyes charmed blue, while hers were charmed a dull brown to avoid recognition. She had even covered the strange scar on his head with a powerful glamour.

They should be safe.

"Mum, what will happen if a wand doesn't want me?" Harry's quiet, worried voice drifted up to Lily. They had bought all his school supplies except the wand, and Harry, who had been excited moments earlier, was biting his lip in distress.

Lily knelt down outside Olivander's. "Everybody has a wand, Harry. There's one for even the silliest wizard - and you're not silly, are you?" Harry shook his head, brightening slightly. "Besides, what wand wouldn't want to choose you, dear?" Satisfied at Harry's smile, Lily rose and guided her son into the shop.

It was as dusty as she remembered, and as messy, with with wands stashed on counter tops, stacked on shelves and some piled on chairs. She chuckled when Harry jumped as Olivander appeared from behind a shelf.

"Lily Potter," he whispered. Lily froze, head darting around to check they were alone in the shop. "Willow and unicorn hair, ten and three-quarter inches. Is it serving you well?"

"Y-yes," Lily answered shakily. It had been a long time since she'd been called Lily Potter . . .

Olivander studied her reaction. "Or is it Ellian Evans, now?" Without waiting for a reply, he stepped closer, looking down at Harry. "And young Harry Potter, the child hunted by our Lord for the best part of a decade."

Harry lifted his chin. "I'm afraid you're mistaken," he said in a clear voice. "My name is Harrikon Evans. And I'm here to get my wand."

Olivander's wizened mouth pulled up in a smile. "Yes, of course." He seemed to shake himself before fetching a wand from one of the shelves behind him. "Willow and dragon heartstring, eleven inches. Durable." He handed the wand to Harry, who made a face and instantly set it down. "It feels bad," he explained, wiping his hands on his robes.

The next wand (oak and unicorn hair, eight inches, flexible) received the same reaction; as did the next dozen. Lily started to get worried that Harry's prediction that a wand wouldn't choose him would come true when a beechwood and phoenix wing feather wand caused Olivander's desk to go up in smoke.

The wandmaker stared at the dark-haired boy thoughtfully. "I wonder . . ." He whispered, before disappearing for a minute, coming back with a very dusty box. "Holly and phoenix tail feather. An unusual combination." He handed the wand to Harry with an almost reverent gleam in his eyes.

As soon as the wand touched his hand, Harry knew it was his. It just felt right.

He looked up as Olivander muttered, "Curious."

"What's curious?" Harry blurted out.

Olivander looked at him for a long moment. "The phoenix that gave me this feather," he brushed a finger down the wand, "gave one other feather. I sold that wand long ago, to a boy who became the ruler of Britain as we know it," he rasped, his voice so quiet Harry had to strain to hear.

Lily gasped. "He shares a core with Voldemort?"

Olivander nodded slowly. "I sense you are destined for great things, Mr Potter," he said slowly. "For our Lord has done great things - terrible, you may say, but great."

The two left the wandshop in silence, Harry thinking over how cool his wand was . . . and how if it was like Voldemort's did that mean that they were connected? He voiced the unsettling question to Lily, who forced a smile. "Maybe, Harry," she said. "But you are yourself. Do not let a wand dictate how you think about yourself." And with that piece of advice, she spun around on her heel, Apparating them home.


	3. Departure and Arrival

Seeing Harry off at King's Cross was difficult.

Lily knew that as soon as her son stepped onto the platform, he would have to become Harrikon Evans, and she Ellian. The distinction was small - a few aspects of behavior for her - but it tugged at her heart how careful Harry would have to be; she could see the tension in his face as he saw the crowd of witches and wizards, and she longed to take him back home, where he could yell and run and not have to worry about exposing them.

Harry, sensing her unease, looked up at her with a smile. "It'll be fine," he reassured her quietly. She nodded, willing herself to be strong.

Lily helped Harry with his trunk, lifting it up onto the rack in an empty compartment, then stood slightly awkwardly for a second. Neither of them had been apart for more than a day ever since that fateful night ten years ago; Lily swallowed past the lump in her throat to say, "Harry, I love you."

Harry looked bemused. "I know, Mum. Love you too," he said with a smile. The train blew its whistle, the signal for any parents to leave the train, and Lily pulled Harry into a quick hug, kissing his forehead before stepping out and off the train. She immediately went to his window, waving with a bright smile as the train pulled away, forcing the tears back.

She waved until the train rounded a corner, then dropped her hand to her side, her face falling.

"First time?" came a woman's sympathetic tone.

Lily jumped and spun around, eyes widening slightly at the sight of Molly Weasley. Her mind raced - if Molly was still free, did that mean other Order members were here? She'd thought Voldemort had locked them all up . . .

Recovering herself, she nodded. "My only child. Konor," she said, the name unfamiliar on her lips. Harry's alias as Harrikon had been chosen so that if she slipped and called him Harry, it would not seem too odd, and so he'd have a nickname; known as Konor, it would be that much harder to draw a link between him and Harry Potter. Her own name, Ellian, had been chosen for the same reason; to her colleagues and acquaintances in Diagon Alley, she was Ellie, but just in case she made a mistake with her name, "Lily" was not too far-fetched a nickname.

Molly nodded. Lily took comfort in how there was no recognition in her eyes; while she hadn't known the Weasleys that well, it was heartening to see proof that she wouldn't have to fear meeting an old acquaintance and being discovered.

"My youngest boy, Ronald, is going this year," Molly revealed.

Lily had forgotten the Weasleys had a son Harry's age. "Oh? How many do you have?" she asked. James had often joked about the size of the Weasley brood . . . She swallowed at the thought of James, turning her attention back to Molly.

"Six boys and a girl. She's going next year - as it is, it'll be very lonely at home," Molly said.

"So is it just you . . ." Lily prodded gently.

Molly nodded. "My husband was an . . . He was found to be linked to the resistance. He's in Azkaban now, will be for another four years." She turned her head away, her eyes distant.

"I'm sorry," Lily said. The response felt inadequate, but she couldn't think of anything more to say.

The awkward silence was broken by a young girl running up to Molly. "Mum, can we go now?"

"Yes, Ginny - This is my daughter, Ginevra. My name is Molly by the way, Molly Weasley . . ."

Lily very nearly said her true name but caught herself just in time. "Ellian Evans," she said, shaking Molly's hand. "Nice to meet you." She smiled down at the girl. "And you too, Ginny."

Molly smiled before leading Ginny towards the station exit.

Lily remained on the platform a few more minutes before noticing that she was one of the last remaining. Not wishing to bring attention to herself, she turned on the spot, Apparating away.

* * *

Harry sat down as the train rounded the corner. There was a lump in his throat, but he refused to cry. He wasn't six anymore. Instead, he stared out of the window, his face worried. Despite his confident reassurances to his mother, he was unsure about his acting. What if he slipped up and said Harry instead of Konor? His fingers traced the scar on his head. Even glamored, he could still feel it, a constant reminder of the night his father had died. Lily hadn't said how he got the scar, sadly saying she didn't know, but he thought it must be connected to why the Dark Lord was hunting him.

There was a knock on his apartment door. Harry looked up as a ginger head was stuck through the doorway. "Mind if I sit down? Everywhere else is full," the boy said apologetically.

"'Course," Harry said. "Free country, right?" Harry instantly berated himself for the sarcastic remark. It was things that that, small slips, that Lily had warned him about . . .

The boy looked at him a bit strangely for a moment, but seemed to dismiss it. "I'm Ron Weasley," he said, sitting down.

"Harrikon Evans,"Harry said, trying to make the name sound natural.

"So what house d'you reckon you'll be in?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "Not a clue."

"Where were your parents? It normally runs in families."

 _Gryffindor_. Harry shrugged. "My dad's a muggle," he lied. "And my mum never went to Hogwarts."

Ron blinked. "Oh, right."

Harry flashed him a smile. "So where do you think you're headed?"

"Gryffindor, definitely. My whole family's there."

Harry listened to Ron babble on. It didn't take much to keep him talking, just a question every few minutes, and appropriate _hmms_ and _ahhhs_ where needed.

Harry had grown rather bored by the time someone came around with refreshments. Lily had given him a galleon spending money, and when Ron mumbled something about corned beef, he shrugged and bought a few extra pumpkin pasties. They'd keep Ron quiet for a bit at any rate.

A prefect came around later to tell them they were ten minutes from Hogwarts. Both boys pulled their robes on, Harry sliding his wand into the wrist holster Lily had bought for him as a late birthday present.

"They take our luggage up for us, right?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded, then glanced at Harry in surprise. "How'd you know that?"

"Someone mentioned it on the platform," Harry said quickly. He quelled the rising panic that he'd slip again.

"First years! This way, please, first years!" a short witch shouted from the shore of the lake. Harry and Ron headed over, getting into a boat.

"We have to cross the lake, see," Ron said excitedly. "My brother Charlie said there's a giant squid!"

Harry nodded distractedly. The moon had just come out from behind clouds and he could see the castle. Lily had described it to him, but nothing compared to the stunning majesty of the real thing. The stone looked ancient and powerful, and Harry thought he could almost feel the magic coming off it.

Two more students got into the boat - a dark-skinned boy who introduced himself as Dean, and a blonde boy called Michael. Ron fell silent as they approached the castle, gazing in awe at the structure.

The witch - who introduced herself as Professor Manila - led them up several flights of stairs to stand outside a pair of enormous doors.

Another witch was waiting for them here. She nodded at her colleague, who walked through a side door, before addressing the students.

"I am Professor McGonagall." _Mum mentioned you_ , Harry thought, elated at the familiar name. "When you step through these doors, you will be sorted into one of four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin." Here she paused to give them all a searching glance. "During your time here, however long that may be, your house is your family. Your triumphs shall earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose them. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup by our Lord himself - a great honour."

Harry thought her expression soured a bit as she said this.

"You may want to tidy yourselves up," McGonagall added, her eyes lingering on a dark smudge on Ron's nose, and on Harry's wild hair. Her eyes widened marginally as she looked at Harry, but she shook her head slightly after a moment and returned her attention to the rest of the students. "Follow me, please."

Harry was aware his pulse was racing. He'd been so sure that there'd been recognition in the Professor's eyes - luckily, she'd dismissed it. Harry tried to relax his shoulders as they entered the Great Hall.

His eyes were instantly drawn to the figure at the center of the staff table. Voldemort was tall, taller than Harry had expected, and looked very young; if he'd not known from his mother that the Dark Lord was over seventy years old, Harry would have mistaken him for being in his late twenties.

Voldemort's eyes rested briefly upon Harry, and even from the opposite end of the hall, Harry could see they were red - bright red. He gulped.

The Dark Lord's eyes moved to stare at the hat which rested on a stool at the front of the hall. _The Sorting Hat,_ Harry thought. Would it sing like his mum has said it would?

He got his answer as the brim of the hat opened and it burst into song:

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find,_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart._

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart._

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,_

_And unafraid of toil._

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind._

_Or perhaps in Slytherin,_

_You'll make your real friends._

_Those cunning folk use any means,_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat bowed to each house before becoming still once more. Just as suddenly, they went quiet as Voldemort stood up.

"Good evening," he said, his voice quiet but confident. _And arrogant_ , Harry decided. "The start of another school year." _Well done, you know the date._

As if hearing the thought, Voldemort looked straight at Harry as he continued, "And so we have our sorting of the first years." He nodded to McGonagall, who started to read from the long scroll in her hand.

"Abbot, Hannah," McGonagall barked out. A girl with long brown hair nervously walked up and placed the Sorting Hat on her head. "HUFFLEPUFF!" roared the hat, causing the girl to grin with delight and scamper off to her table.

Harry started to feel a bit sick. The hat had said it could see into their heads . . . What if it gave away his secret?

Evans was quite high up on the alphabet, he mused. _Why couldn't Mum have picked a name beginning with Z?_

"Bennet, Adam" went to Hufflepuff as well, along with "Bones, Susan". Then there was a Gryffindor, then a Slytherin, and another Slytherin.

"Corner, Michael" went to Ravenclaw, the first there; he was greeted with much applause. Harry's knees began to shake slightly, and he bit his tongue to make himself stop.

"Evans, Harrikon," McGonagall called. Harry blinked. No surnames with D? That wasn't fair . . . Ron nudged him forward and he made his way up towards the Sorting Hat, very aware of the hundreds of eyes on him.

Harry sat down on the wooden stool and carefully placed the hat on his head.


	4. Suspicions

Harry jumped as a voice spoke into his mind

"Well, well, well," the hat said snidely. "What do we have here? Harry Potter, the most wanted child of the decade . . ."

Harry directed his thoughts towards the hat. _Please don't tell,_ he asked it urgently.

The hat made a chuckling sound. "Don't worry, young wizard - I never tell others what I find in minds."

Harry relaxed slightly.

"Now, where shall I put you?" the hat mused. "Plenty of courage, I see . . . and a thirst for revenge . . . loyal, certainly. . .and, what's this?" The hat sounded amused. "Practicing your spellwork with your mother's wand? And managing it too, and without her noticing . . . You _are_ a problem."

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Now, Slytherin would help you . . ." The hat suggested,

 _No!_ Harry thought urgently. Feeling the hat's surprise, he explained, _I don't want to be connected to Voldemort any more than I am already._

"Not Slytherin . . . Are you sure? It would suit you well."

Harry nodded vehemently.

"Very well, then . . . You're certainly loyal enough to your mother for Hufflepuff, but you have far too sharp a tongue . . ." The hat chuckled. "Gryffindor, perhaps? Like your parents?"

Harry hesitated, remembering Ron Weasley's words about being in Gryffindor. He had no wish to deal with the boring redhead more than necessary. _No_.

The hat made a sound of agreement. "You're too . . . Careful for them, yes. You have a very intriguing mind, very fast . . . Still sure about Slytherin?"

 _Yes,_ Harry thought firmly.

"Well, then, if you're sure . . . Better be RAVENCLAW!" The hat shouted the last word out to the hall.

Harry smiled and handed the hat back to McGonagall. The smile disappeared as he realised everyone was staring at him . . . How long had he been there? Surely not more than a minute? He made his way over to the Ravenclaw table, which had slowly began to clap, sitting down next to the boy he remembered being in his boat earlier.

"What took you so long?" the Ravenclaw - Michael Corner, wasn't it? - asked curiously.

Harry shrugged. "How long was I?"

Michael blinked. "You were nearly five minutes."

 _Oh._ Harry grimaced slightly; so much for not drawing attention to himself - now the whole school had noticed him. Smoothing out his expression, he offered his hand. "I'm Harrikon, Konnor for short," he said.

"Michael," the boy replied, shaking Harry's hand.

The rest of the sorting went smoothly. There were a few more Ravenclaws, including a girl with bushy hair who pestered Harry in a bossy tone about why his sorting had taken so long as soon as she sat down. He scowed at her in response, turning back to the sorting.

His had certainly been the longest; most only took a minute, and one person - Draco Malfoy - was sorted as soon as the hat touched his head, into Slytherin. Harry noticed Malfoy give the Dark Lord a respectful nod as he made his way over to his table.

Ron was indeed sorted into Gryffindor, although not as quickly as some. Harry could make out Weasley's lips moving as he sat under the hat, forming the words "Please Gryffindor" repeatedly. Harry wondered what house the hat had considered putting Ron in - certainly not Slytherin or Ravenclaw, though he wouldn't have pegged him for loyalty either. Perhaps Gryffindor was the best house for the brash boy.

The feast began as soon as the sorting ended. Harry ate sparingly; while the food was delicious, he had never had a great appetite.

He took the time to study the people around him. Michael was quiet, but watchful. The girl - Hermione, she said - kept loudly boasting about how she knew this and that, and asking people if they'd read _Hogwarts: A History._ Harry had to resist the urge to cast a silencing charm on her.

The other Ravenclaw first years were mostly calm, although a boy called Anthony Goldstein seemed determined to engage everyone in conversation at least once. Harry made sure his responses were polite, but his attention was on the other houses.

There was an almost tangible difference between each house. Ravenclaw was relatively quiet, while Gryffindor was load and raucous; Slytherin was filled with whispering students, with the odd exception - Draco Malfoy was boasting about his new set of books, his wand and his broomstick to everyone around him - and Hufflepuff had a friendly bubble of laughter around it.

He turned his attention to the staff table. McGonagall was talking to a stout witch next to her - Harry racked his memory for who's description she fit; Lily had told him about the teachers that she'd had, and it seemed sensible that at least a few would be the same. Sprout, perhaps? He asked the second year sitting a few seats up.

"Yes, that's Professor Sprout, she teaches Herbology." The boy then pointed out the other teachers. "The short one's Flitwick, he's our head of house, teaches Charms. You already know McGonagall, she does Transfiguration. Then there's Snape - he teaches Potions, and is technically the Headmaster - Avery, he teaches Dark Arts, and the one on the end is Rivera, she does Defence. All the others are electives, you won't need to know them for another year."

The other first years had been listening in. "What's the difference between Dark Arts and Defence?" Anthony asked.

Harry cocked his head, interested to hear what the second year would say.

"Dark Arts deals with mainly offensive, powerful spells," the boy said, "Defence is more light spells - generally defensive, as the name suggests, and easier than dark spells. Though there's always exceptions - the Patronus charm, for example, which is one of the most difficult spells taught here, is light."

 _A fair explanation,_ Harry thought. Lily, while being a light-orientated witch, had taught Harry that it wasn't the spell that was inherently evil, but rather it depended on the caster. The spell she'd created to fix his eyes had been dark in that it had required a sacrifice from an eagle to complete; they'd used an old eagle who would have died anyway, but that didn't change the nature of the spell.

Harry looked over at Voldemort as the food disappeared. The Dark Lord stood up, total silence falling over the hall.

"Most of you will, of course, already know this," Voldemort said, "First-years, you will not. You have already been informed that rule-breaking will lose you house points, but detentions may also be given out. Severe infractions will be brought directly to me," he said darkly. Several students shuddered. "However, there are other ways to gain points; beginning in February, there will be competitions in several subjects, as well as a dueling tournament. The competitions are open to all." He scanned the room, his eyes seeming to rest briefly on each student. "Everyone is expected to take part in at least one event."

That was interesting. Lily had not mentioned any big competitions other than Quidditch to Harry, so this must be a new development.

"There is a list of rules up in each common room, which I expect everyone to read." There was a mutter from the Gryffindor table, and the Dark Lord's eyes flashed. "I do not expect anyone to be talking while I am," he said, his voice silky. A dead silence fell over the hall as everyone froze. Voldemort looked around one more time before saying, "You are dismissed."

Harry stood up with his fellow Ravenclaws. A prefect hurried over. "First-years, follow me," she said loudly. Harry kept step next to Michael as he exited the hall, not daring to look back at the staff table, where he could feel the gaze of a certain Dark Lord digging into the back of his head.

"My name is Amber Colloway," the prefect said. "Our common room is located in Ravenclaw tower, at the west side of Hogwarts." She was leading them up the moving staircases (which Hermione pointed out were in _Hogwarts: A History_ ) when a dark figure stepped in front of them.

Harry fought to keep his expression neutral as he surveyed Severus Snape.

Lily had told him about Snape, of course. She hadn't gone into detail, but he'd gathered that they'd been great friends once, and that it was he whom Lily suspected had been the Death Eater who had warned her about keeping Harry a secret.

"May I borrow Mr Evans for a minute," Snape said to Amber. It wasn't a question, despite the phrasing.

"Of course, Headmaster," she said before turning to her charges. "Mr Evans, could you step- Oh, you're there." Harry had already begun to make his way towards Snape. "Follow the Headmaster, Mr Evans. I'm sure he'll lead you to our common room after."

Snape inclined his head before setting a brisk pace. Harry struggled to keep up without running, and was out of breath by the time they reached their destination - halfway up another tower. Glancing out a window, Harry determined it was the southern tower.

Two large stone snakes guarded the door, but on the sight of Snape they moved aside. The Headmaster knocked once.

"Enter."

Harry's heart rate sped up. He recognised that voice. _A_ _s would many people_ , he mused silently.

The door opened and Snape pushed Harry inside. He glanced around; it was an office, large and with round walls lined with bookshelves. A fire was lit in the hearth next to the door, and placed close to the wall opposite was a desk, behind which sat the Dark Lord.

Harry very nearly let out a gasp as the scar on his head _tugged_. It wasn't much, but there was a definite feeling that his scar wanted him to get closer to Voldemort. Harry kept his face impassive even as the Dark Lord lifted his gaze to him, causing his scar to react even further, the tugging intensifying while feeling almost pleasant; Harry had to strain not to lean closer.

_Time to put my acting skills to the test._

"Leave, Severus," Voldemort ordered. Snape bowed slightly before leaving.

"What is your name?" the man asked softly.

Harry blinked, taken off-guard by his calm, inviting tone. _Pay attention._ "Konor - I mean Harrikon Evans, sir," he said, stumbling over his words slightly to give the impression of nervousness.

Voldemort's red gaze did not leave Harry. "Tell me, Mr Evans," he aid, his voice still soft, "Why were you not sent a Hogwarts letter?"

Harry blinked, forcefully keeping his shoulders relaxed. "I applied -"

"Yes, I know," Voldemort cut him off, and Harry forced back a wince as his scar twinged painfully. "That wasn't what I asked."

"Oh! Sorry, sir-"

"You address me as 'my Lord', boy, did your parents never teach you that?"

Harry cast his eyes to the ground. His scar was positively throbbing now."My father was a muggle," he mumbled, as if he were ashamed.

"And your mother? Did she not go to Hogwarts?" he pressed, though his tone was sympathetic. _False, of course._

"No, my Lord. She was not powerful enough." Again, Harry mumbled the words, keeping up the pretense of being an ashamed son who was dumbstruck by the Lord's attention. "Is that why I never got my letter?"

Voldemort studied him. "No. A letter is sent to every magical child in Britain."

"So it got lost?" Harry injected a bit of arrogance into his tone, as if he was certain his theory had been right all along.

"It seems so." Voldemort turned to the papers on his desk. His scar calming as soon as the man's gaze was averted, Harry hesitated as if unsure about the dismissal before shuffling backwards and turning around, walking quickly as if eager to be out of the Dark Lord's presence. In truth, Harry was quite enjoying the act.

"Oh, and Mr Evans?" Voldemort said. Harry stopped. "What was the name of your mother again?"

"Ellie Evans, sir - my lord," Harry replied quickly, adding a note of slight surprise and pride that Voldemort would be interested in his life.

"Very well. You may go."

Harry left, shutting the door behind him gently. The snakes instantly slithered across it in an X shape, barricading the entrance. Harry headed back towards Ravenclaw tower.

Once out of sight of any portraits, Harry allowed a smirk to cross his face. He'd done it! Lied directly to Voldemort's face! _Mum will be proud._

The smile faded slightly as Harry went over the events. Why had Voldemort summoned him? Was it just because he'd applied instead of just returning a letter? Obviously the letter had not been lost, as it had never existed in the first place - the letter Harry had received was addressed to Harry Potter, and as he clearly could not have sent a reply to that he'd applied as Harrikon, saying his (non-existent) letter must have been lost.

Yes. Voldemort _must_ have summoned him out of curiosity over the letter; Harry had no doubt that if he'd been suspected of being Harry Potter the Dark Lord would have torn through his mind to find the answer - or tried to, anyway. Harry had been practicing Occlumency from a young age as part of protecting his identity, and he'd gotten quite good - better than Lily at any rate.

But what was the thing with his scar? It had hurt over the years, and occasionally had given off odd sensations, but Harry had always dismissed them; they'd been nowhere near as strong as today's.

Harry hesitated as he came to the bottom of Ravenclaw tower. Which way did he go now? _Up? Through a door?_

A portrait of a middle-aged woman hanging on the wall asked in a kind tone, "Lost, dear?"

Harry nodded, pasting an embarrassed expression onto his face - for all he knew, the portrait was reporting directly to Voldemort. "Do you know how to get to the Ravenclaw common room?" he asked meekly.

"Just go up the stairs. There'll be a door with an bronze eagle knocker - knock, then answer the riddle. Someone inside will be able to guide you to your dormitory," the portrait instructed.

"Thanks." Harry went up the stairs; there was indeed an eagle knocker. He lifted it once, and his eyes widened slightly as the knocker opened its metal eyes and beak.

"If you have me, you want to share me. If you share me, you haven't got me. What am I?" the knocker asked in a melodious tone.

Harry bit his lip in thought. _What do you lose when you share? It can't be a material object, as then if you share it you would still have it_ . . .he grinned as the answer came upon him. "A secret," he said confidently. _Appropriate, given the circumstances._

"Insightful," the knocker praised, the door opening.

The common room was larger than Harry had expected, with lots of comfy chairs and desks scattered around in small clusters. It was nearly empty, though the prefect from earlier - Amber something? - strode over as soon as she saw him.

"I thought you'd gotten lost - what did Headmaster Snape want?" she inquired.

Harry shrugged. "Nothing, really - he just spoke to me about my Hogwarts letter - it arrived a bit late, so he wanted to make sure I'd had time to get all my supplies."

Amber nodded. "Your dormitory is the third up on the left, you won't miss it, your name as well as the names of your roommates is printed on the front. Have a good night, Mr Evans."

"Konor," Harry said with a smile.

Amber nodded, her face relaxing into something slightly friendlier. "Konor then. Goodnight." She went back to her little desk by the fire.

Harry headed towards his dormitory, pausing to read the plaque on the front. He was sharing with Michael, Anthony and someone called Timothy Morris. Pushing the door open, he found the candles out, though he could make out the shapes of four beds with a desk and wardrobe next to each of them.

"Lumos," he whispered, pleased when it worked; with the decree on the use of underaged magic, he hadn't been able to practice with his own wand at home.

He lit the candles on the desk next to his bed - easily found by his trunk by the foot, as well as the fact that all the other beds had the hangings drawn shut - and after changing into his pyjamas, he took out some parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink, and proceeded to write a short letter to Lily.

_Dear Mum,_

_Hogwarts is brilliant! We had to go up to the castle by boats - there's a massive lake between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, you see - and it's just so good! Magic everywhere._

_I've been sorted into Ravenclaw, which is the house of intelligence. I'm sharing a dorm with three other boys, all of which seem quite nice, and quiet._

_Mum - I was summoned to our Lord's office! He asked me about my letter, or lack of it, an said that we must have been right, it got lost, as a letter is sent out to every single magical child._

_He also asked about you. I said you didn't go to Hogwarts, but it didn't seem to matter to him._

_Anyway, I need to sleep - apparently I can send this via school owl as I don't have one, so I'll send it in the morning._

_Missing you already,_

_Love,_

_Konor_

Obviously there was too high a risk of his owl being intercepted to say what he truly thought about things - as the letter stood it would only reinforce the impression of a nervous and moderately intelligent student who idolized the Dark Lord - but Lily would know what he meant to say: his sorting and how Voldemort had not seemed suspicious. Unfortunately, Harry couldn't think of a way to tell her about his scar without running the risk of raising suspicions if his letter was read by someone else.

Harry folded the letter up, laving it on his bedside table as he climbed into bed, drawing the hangings around him.

Sleep came easy, his exhausted dreams full of spells and candles.

* * *

Voldemort paced his office.

There was something wrong - or right - he couldn't tell. But his sixth sense had been screaming at him to investigate as soon as the first years had walked into the Great Hall.

He'd thought, perhaps, that he was subconsciously sensing power from one of the students, but none of them had given off the slightest whiff of magical power beyond the base level expected of any witch or wizard.

He'd even summoned the Evans boy in case it was mystery of the missing letter that was nagging at him, but there had been nothing remotely out of the ordinary - the boy seemed like a typical young Ravenclaw, convinced in his own genius, though Voldemort had not got the impression the boy was overly intelligent. Quite the opposite, though perhaps he'd just been star-struck from meeting him.

The Dark Lord sighed. He's keep an eye on the first years, certainly, but for now . . . He had work to do at the ministry.

Voldemort turned and, manipulating the wards around his rooms, Disapparated silently.


	5. Accidental Attention

Harry woke early.

Lily had taught him a nifty little charm that worked as an alarm, causing a buzzing sound inside the castor's head; Harry had cast it for six o'clock.

He slipped out of bed, washing and getting dressed in silence. The other boys started to stir just as Harry left, letter clutched in his hand.

Lily had said the Owlery was in the western tower . . . Harry headed that way, meeting no one except a poltergeist which blew raspberries at him before floating through a wall.

Once at the Owlery, Harry selected a small, nondescript brown owl, petting it briefly before sending it with his letter.

He paused at the window. The view from there was truly magnificent; Harry could see all the way over the Forbidden Forest, and if he leaned out a bit, the lake with Hogsmeade beyond were visible.

A noise from behind made him spin around, startling the student - a Hufflepuff first year judging by the yellow-and-black stripes on his cheeks ( _a dare?_ ) and diminutive stature - who'd came up with a piece of toast and a letter.

His peacefulness disturbed, Harry nodded to the Hufflepuff and strode out.

The Great Hall was busy by the time Harry arrived, and after a glance at the staff table, determining Voldemort was not there, Harry sat down next to Michael and helped himself to toast.

"Where were you this morning?" Michael asked curiously.

Harry shrugged. "Sent my mum a letter." Michael nodded, a comfortable silence falling between the two.

Several minutes later, Harry noticed Flitwick rise from the staff table, his short legs moving quickly as he hurried over to the cluster of first years. "Your timetables," Flitwick explained, handing them all a piece of paper. Harry scanned his quickly. Four lessons a day, each ninety minutes long - and they had double Potions first.

Harry had to repress a smirk. Lily would be interested to see how Headmaster Snape, her once best friend, taught.

It was a mark of how little power Snape actually had over the school in that he still had to teach.

Michael stood up. "Coming, Konor?" he asked. "We need to get our Potions stuff."

Harry nodded, stuffing the timetable in his pocket and following Michael out.

* * *

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape said in a soft voice.

While the dark-eyed man did not have a presence like Voldemort's, his demeanor was enough to keep the classroom of Ravenclaws and Slytherins utterly silent.

Snape surveyed the students, and, satisfied they were all paying attention, continued, "As there is little foolish wand-waving, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Several Ravenclaws bristled at the insinuation, while the Slytherins barely seemed to react. Harry noticed Malfoy was smirking slightly, and narrowed his eyes at the blonde.

Snape's gaze moved over the students. "Corner!" he said suddenly. "Where would you find a bezoar?"

Michael looked startled. "Erm . . . I don't . . . A goat?"

Snape's lip curled. "The stomach of a goat, Corner, and you address me as 'sir'."

"Sorry, sir," mumbled Michael.

Snape looked at Harry, his mouth opening slightly as if to ask a question, but then his eyes flickered and he moved to a girl sitting next to Hermione. "Turpin - What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

"They're the same plant, sir," the girl answered.

"Correct." Seemingly satisfied, Snape turned and flicked his wand at the board, where instructions appeared. "You will be making a simple potion to cure boils, in pairs. You may start."

"You want to get the ingredients?" Harry asked Michael, who nodded and set off for the store cupboard.

Potions seemed simple, on the surface, just following instructions - but Harry itched to find out why; why did stirring anticlockwise have different effects to clockwise, why did the nettle leaves have to be crushed, why were horned slugs different to normal slugs - but he kept quiet, thinking that Snape probably wouldn't take kindly to a questioning student.

At the end of the lesson, Harry and Michael's potion was the exact shade of mustard-yellow that was described on the board - better than Malfoy and Parkinson's, which was a more green shade.

Snape stalked around the classroom to survey the potions; at most he sneered, deducting a few points from any Ravenclaws who hadn't completed the potion. At Hermione and her partner Turpin's potion, he looked almost surprised, but didn't award any points; at Harry's he gave one point with an expression that looked like he'd just given up something dear.

Malfoy and several other Slytherins received points.

Harry scowled as he finally exited the dungeons. _Biased git._

Several other Ravenclaws were grumbling about the unfairness of it as well, though from what Harry gathered from the comments Snape was said to be far harder on the Hufflepuffs, and even worse with the Gryffindors.

Voldemort was still absent for lunch. Harry wondered if he only showed up in the evenings - or maybe just on the first day of term. The rumours that he spent most of his time at Hogwarts may be only that - exaggerated whispers.

"Charms next," said Harry to Michael as lunch ended.

"Up on the third floor?" Michael checked. Harry nodded.

Charms was almost comical. Flitwick was so short he had to stand on a chair to see over his desk, and at one point very nearly fell off.

"Now, today we shall start to practice the wand movements for the levitation charm, which does what? Mr Finnigan?" he pointed to one of the Gryffindors, who looked clueless. Harry rolled his eyes.

"It levitates objects, sir," Hermione answered when Finnigan didn't say anything. Harry resisted rolling his eyes again.

"Correct, Miss Granger! Now, the movements are a swish and flick - like this." He demonstrated with his wand. "Everyone take out your wands and follow me, please. Swish - and - flick!"

Harry, who had already practiced and perfected this charm at home using Lily's wand, groaned quietly as he lazily moved his wand.

His frustration increased as Flitwick proceeded to spend the whole lesson on the movement; at the rate they were going, he'd be lucky to learn any new spells by Christmas.

Hopefully Defence would be more interesting.

The teacher for Defence, Professor Rivera, was a tall, slim witch with a long scar by her ear and a no-nonsense, brisk attitude, though from the sparkles in her eyes Harry could tell she was more laid-back than she seemed.

"Today we are going to learn one of the most common and easiest spells you could use if facing a hostile witch or wizard. While relatively simple, do not be downhearted if you don't get it for a while, it does take concentration and technique." She took a breath, having said her introduction very rapidly. "You'll be practicing in pairs - which I shall put you in -" she smiled apologetically at the groan which filled the classroom "-and will attempt to disarm each other."

Harry perked up slightly; he hadn't actually practiced the disarming spell.

"The incantation is _expeliarmus_ , and you need to have your wand pointed at your opponent's, but there is no proper wand movement, although sometimes people find making a small jab or flick with the wand works." She clapped her hands. "Pairs are as follows: Parkinson and Turpin, Bulstrode and Granger, Patil and Crabbe . . ." Harry noticed with a spike of amusement Padma's scowl as she was paired with the overgrown gorilla that was Crabbe.

"Evans and Malfoy, and Corner and Nott," Rivera finished.

Harry's spirits rose; as interesting as the lesson seemed, he was still bored, and Malfoy seemed like he would be easy to rile up and have fun with. _Let's see how many spells you actually know._

Rivera gave them a brief instruction on basic dueling etiquette before letting them start.

Harry and Malfoy appraised each other, wands out. " _Expeliarmus_ ," Harry said, pleased when a jet of red light shot out, sending Malfoy's wand spinning towards him. He snapped out a hand, catching it as it sailed through the air.

Suddenly aware of the silence, Harry glanced around the classroom to find everyone staring at him. After a moment, Rivera collected herself and said, "Well done! I've never seen a first year grasp it so quickly - have you tried the spell before, Mr -?"

"Evans, Professor," Harry replied smoothly, "and no, I haven't."

"Well, congratulations!" she seemed slightly flustered. "I wasn't planning on introducing this one for a few weeks, but I doubt it will be a challenge if you managed this one so quickly - keep practicing, everybody - Evans, do you know the body-bind spell?"

"I've heard of it, Professor."

"Good. The incantation is _Petrificus Totalus_ , and the movement is a small semi-circle clockwise and upwards, before a downward flick." She demonstrated quickly. "I'm sure Mr Malfoy won't mind helping us." Malfoy's affronted expression suggested he minded very much, and Harry smirked at him. "Now, Evans, try it on Malfoy."

Harry turned back to his partner, flashing a cheery smile at the blonde, receiving a scowl back. " _Petrificus Totalus_ ," he incanted, flicking his wand. Malfoy's arms snapped to his side, his legs together, and Rivera quickly cast a cushioning charm as he hit the floor. Her face lit up in delight. "Well done!" she praised happily. "Now, what about this one - it's the basic shield spell, only for very low-level spells - the word is _Contego_ , movement a sharp jab - go on, try."

Harry had fun as he went through nearly a dozen spells, most of them completely new to him, and the lesson ended with the Professor nearly dancing in joy and Malfoy very disgruntled, pushing past Harry in the doorway with a whispered, "You'll pay for that, Evans." Harry laughed at him.

He was in such a good mood that he didn't notice the whispering at dinner until he heard Hermione, who was sitting opposite him, loudly say, "Well, it's obvious he's done the spells before," in a haughty tone.

Harry's lips pressed together, and he snapped back without thinking, "Just because you had trouble with your spellwork doesn't mean you should project your own inadequacies onto other people."

Hermione gasped, tears coming to her eyes, and glared at him.

Harry suddenly became aware that the noise level had dropped considerably; people were staring at him and whispering, though he caught a few phrases, many of them expressing disbelief. He felt warmth rush into his cheeks, and tried to keep his expression blank as he returned to his food.

 _Damnit_. He'd been too caught up his own cleverness to consider the consequences of doing so much better than the other pupils; he'd drawn attention to himself, just what he'd been trying not to do.

Glancing up at the staff table, Harry felt an invisible weight drop into his stomach. The Dark Lord was there at the center of the table, talking with Professor Rivera, who was alternating between animatedly moving her hand and glancing at him.

Just when he'd successfully avoided suspicion last night, too . . .This would have shattered the impression he'd given Voldemort of an average student.

Oh well. At least he was in Ravenclaw, and so was expected to be quite intelligent.

The Dark Lord's gaze didn't move from the back of Harry's head for the rest of the meal, leaving Harry with a growing headache, and another odd feeling in his scar, this one reminiscent of curiosity. A sudden, unwelcome thought struck Harry - what if his scar was linked to the man's mind? His emotions? It would certainly fit; while he hadn't been able to tell from his expression, he'd thought Voldemort sounded irritate at the same time his scar had become painful in his office the night before.

If so, curiosity was a bad sign. His identity should check out if investigated, but there was always the possibility that Lily had missed something . . . And even one small slip that spoke of Harry Potter would mean his head on a metaphorical plate.

Harry left dinner early, telling Michael he wanted some peace. He trudged up towards his dorm room, absent-mindedly answering the question and collapsing on his bed as soon as he entered the dorm.

So what should he do now?

He could continue to excel in Defence but pretend to have trouble in other subjects, but that might seem odd and would at any rate be frustrating, having to limit himself while people like Hermione got ahead. Besides, he'd already showed prowess in Potions as well.

Pretending to be mediocre in Defence was clearly out of the question unless he admitted to having already been taught all the spells - but his pride instantly shot down that option. He wouldn't be able to bear the snide glances and superior tones that would be sent his way if he did that.

Or he could perform to his actual ability. It would make him stand out even more, but perhaps if he moderated it slightly - keeping his research, his _whys_ to himself - he could make people think he was merely gifted at learning, rather than truly understanding the subjects. It was a subtle difference, but a major one.

A tapping from the window interrupted his thoughts. Harry opened his eyes and rolled out of bed, opening the small window. A snow-white owl hopped in with a latter in its beak, hooting softly as soon as he too the letter. Seeing his mum's handwriting, he smiled, tearing it open.

D _ear Konor_ , (Lily had written)

_I'm proud of you - Ravenclaw sounds like a good house, and I'm sure you will make good friends there._

_It's very quiet here without you. I'm spending more time at work, so I'm getting a bit more money than usual, and I saw the owl in Diagon Alley and thought she'd be perfect for you, so she's yours now. I haven't named her as I thought you'd like that honour._

Harry looked back at the owl, who had made herself at home on his dresser. She was certainly beautiful, if a bit intimidating, with very large orange eyes and claws.

_So you were right about the lost letter - how exiting to actually meet our Lord! I'm dying to hear more about him!_

_How are your lessons going? And how are the professors?_

_Take care of yourself,_

_Love and kisses,_

_Mum._

Harry smiled tightly. He was glad Lily was pleased about his sorting, and the owl, but the rest of the letter was difficult - how was he going to tell her that he'd blown his "average student" cover in less than a day? He placed the letter on his desk, resolving to reply tomorrow.

Harry looked at the owl again. _What should I call you?_ She looked very pure, almost like a saint with her white plumage . . . He mentally ran through all the names of female wizarding saints before settling on Hedwig.

"Come on, Hedwig," he said, holding out his arm. She hooted at him as if accepting the name before hopping on. "Let's get you to the Owlery."

With luck, he could be there and back before his classmates came in with more questions.


	6. Of Quidditch and Overheard Spells

Harrikon Evans was . . . Interesting.

After dismissing him as average, Voldemort was surprised on Monday when Robyn Rivera enthusiastically praised the boy during dinner on Monday.

"I've never seen someone pick spells up that fast!" she gushed.

"Are you sure he has not merely already done the spells?" said Voldemort.

Rivera shook her head. "No, my Lord - he was attentive, not the attitude of someone who's already done the spells, and seemed both pleased and surprised when he managed them."

Voldemort nodded. Perhaps the boy lacked confidence? That would explain why he'd seemed so _boring_ . . .

The Dark Lord resolved to keep an eye on him.

Over the next week, yet more reports of Evans' performance in class came in: Flitwick said he'd never seen such control over a simple levitation spell, and he heard McGonagall telling Sprout how he'd turned his match into a needle on the first try.

Even Severus had, reluctantly, told him Evans was "adequate". High praise indeed from the dour Potions Master.

First year Dark Arts barely even counted as dark, mainly consisting of principles and simple offensive spells, but Evans had performed just as well there as in Defence, going through practically the entire curriculum in the first few lessons,

It would be interesting to see how ell Evans would perform in the competitions. A pity they didn't start until February. Perhaps he could orchestrate something to see just how skilled Evans was . . . The Malfoy boy was in many of Evans' classes, wasn't he?

* * *

Harry's first flying lesson was on the second Friday afternoon, which all the first years had free.

Of course, flying was hardly new to Harry, who had spent much of his childhood flying over the mountains near home, but as first years were not allowed to bring brooms, he was itching to get up in the air again.

Madam Hooch, the instructor, was another familiar name; had Voldemort kept on all the teachers when he took over? Harry supposed they weren't exactly likely to start a rebellion, though it did seem odd that he let so many people who were, according to Lily, former members of Dumbledore's resistance influence young minds. Though perhaps that was why Voldemort kept such a close watch on the inhabitants of the castle?

Hooch put everyone through a few simple tests - summoning a broom from the ground, hovering, flying in a straight line and flying around the pitch - before putting them into three groups, Harry in the top one.

He was surprised by how many either had never flown or rarely; everyone here was wizard-raised, at least from the age of five or six, as it was then Voldemort's decree on removing muggleborns from their families by faking their deaths had come into play, but he supposed that many would be living in the orphanages, where they may not have had access to brooms.

Yet again, Harry was easily the best; Malfoy, Ron and a few others were talented, but Harry had always been a natural flier, and his practice over the years had honed his skills.

Madam Hooch stopped him at the end of the lesson. "The Ravenclaw Quidditch tryouts are being held on Sunday, and they've got two spots, chaser and seeker. You should try, Evans."

Harry nodded, smiling. "Thanks, I will."

Malfoy's face as he overheard the conversation was brilliant.

* * *

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Harry's professors had started to give him separate assignments to his classmates, and while they weren't exactly taxing, classes were not quite as boring.

Harry did find it amusing how irritated some of his classmates were by this, predominately Hermione and Malfoy. Hermione seemed to be annoyed because she was, for once in her life, not the best, and Malfoy just seemed to hate him on sight.

Things finally came to a head in mid-October.

Harry was leaving the hall after dinner, passing the end of the Slytherin table, when he felt something speeding towards his back. Ducking, he spun around as the spell - a jelly-legs jinx, he recognised - flew over his head.

Malfoy looked surprised, and, spying the wand now pointed at him, wary.

"Trying to curse me with my back turned, Malfoy? How honourable," Harry said, his pulse thundering in his ears. "Though I wouldn't have expected anything else."

Malfoy snarled. " _Rictusempra_ ," he hissed. The jinx hit Harry in the thigh and he started to laugh uncontrollably. _What's the counter-curse?_ He gasped it out, straightening up while sending a cutting curse at Malfoy, who jumped out the way, his eyes widening before narrowing as he retaliated with a burning hex.

" _Protego_." Harry grimaced as heard the gasps. _Right. Fifth year charm. Damn_. He sent a tripping jinx at Malfoy's feet, disarming him as he was distracted.

Harry smirked.

Malfoy rose, his face reddening as he spied his wand in Harry's hand. "Give me my wand back, Evans," he growled.

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "This wand?" He twirled it in his fingers. "I don't think I will, thanks." Before Malfoy could react, Harry cast a sticking charm to the wall above the doors and levitated the wand up there, where it stuck fast, several meters above the ground. "Have fun getting it back. Goodnight." Harry spun round and strode out of the hall.

* * *

Voldemort smiled as he watched the duel between Evans and Malfoy. He'd ordered Lucius to tell his son to antagonize Evans, and to nudge him into retaliating. It had played out even better than he'd envisioned; Evans had both sensed the attack and retaliated brilliantly, his spells fast and accurate. His dueling style needed improvement, but for eleven years old, Evans was _good_.

The competitions would indeed be interesting, with Evans going up against students who had years more experience.

Evans had gotten onto the Quidditch team, too, beating several other, older candidates for the seeker position. The Dark Lord made a mental note to clear his diary for the Ravenclaw-Slytherin match that was coming up at the end of October.

For now, though, he was needed at the ministry.

Voldemort swept out of the hall moments after Evans, noting with cold amusement the Malfoy boy's attempts to retrieve his wand.

Once out of sight, Voldemort twisted through the wards to arrive at his office in the ministry. It was simply furnished, with a large desk, filing cupboard and shelves.

He sat down, rifling through the in-tray. Several things needing his signature, a suggestion about how to improve the faking of muggleborn deaths, a report on the Weasley investigation, a note about the possible sighting of an ex-Order member, Sirius Black . . .and a piece of paper labeled "Harry Potter".

His interest caught, Voldemort started to read, but threw it down with a sneer of disgust after a minute. It was just a progress report, which as there was little progress had, simply talked about how Potter would be eleven now, and so would probably be getting a wand soon, unless he had acquired someone else's.

That was a point to be considered, he supposed, and Voldemort quickly scribbled a note to one of his lower Death Eaters to visit Olivander in the near future. Merlin knew it was the best idea they'd had in years.

The Dark Lord sighed as he sat down to do paperwork. One would have thought being ruler of Britain would make the paperwork easier, but signatures were still needed; people seemed to find the semblance of fairness and democracy that was his official post of Lord, directly over the minister of magic (who was currently Icarus Samson - a Death Eater, though the public didn't know that) comforting. To them, Samson was a half-blood who represented fairness in the initially perceived bigotry of Voldemort's, though as the years passed more people got used to his rule, and his propaganda had caused public opinion to be well in his favour now, portraying him as the saviour of wizarding values against the ideals of muggles.

The Dark Lord's pen paused, hovering over the paper that was to make the final arrangements for the Hogwarts Tournaments. The pen moved down the list: Duelling, enchantments, broom racing, and spellcrafting. The latter of course generally only had serious entries from those doing the Spell Creation OWL, but it was open to all . . . Would Evans enter?

Hmm.

He glanced again at the dueling competition rules. The winner traditionally received a trophy; perhaps he might change it to a duel with him? It was unlikely Evans would win - however good he was he was still a first year, and though the number of students in the upper years was low, he would still be against the dozen eighth and ninth years doing their Hogwarts degrees . . . Though from what he remembered, only a few of them were studying a practical subject.

It would still be fun, though, cutting down the triumphant winner. He did so love to see people's eyes when they realised just how out of their depth they were when dueling him.

Yes. His pen flew across the paper to make the necessary changes, before he signed it with a flourish.

"Amelie," he called softly.

His apprentice entered half a minute later. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Take these down," he said, gesturing to the mound of paper. "And I want someone to question Olivander about the wands he's sold in the past year. Tell them I want a list of names, dates, descriptions and the type of wand."

"Yes, my Lord." Amelie flicked her wand, taking the papers with her as she went out.

Every year the Dark Lord took an apprentice, to be tutored by him for a year, out of Hogwart's ninth year. He sighed. Amelie was alright, gifted at logistics and very good with spells, but neither she nor any of the current Hogwarts upper years were very inventive - and creativity was what made someone truly good at magic. Well, creativity and power.

Too many students learnt by rote. To excel, one must first understand - too few people understood that.

Paperwork done, Voldemort stood. Time to terrify some of the ministry by doing his rounds to oversee work - that was always fun, also making them work harder for the next few days, just in case he was watching them.

* * *

Lily was worried.

Her last letters from Harry had said that he was top of his year - which sent a proud feeling through her heart - but had hinted that the Dark Lord had taken an interest. And while Lily was quite sure no one who knew her would give anything away - if they even knew anything - any comment that seemed out of place, like if someone told of how she'd slipped a few times in her spellwork, giving the impression of a far more powerful witch, could make any investigators suspicious. And with Harry at Hogwarts, there was nothing she would be able to do if they came for them.

"Ellie! Fetch the black velvet from the back!" Madam Malkin called in a tired voice from the front of the store. Lily sighed as she picked up the material; five years working there and she was still shop lackey. Sometimes she really wanted to whip out her wand and show the other seamstresses what she could actually do.

Alas, she would never be able to.

Not unless Voldemort stopped hunting them. And that seemed about as likely as the sky turning green.

* * *

The wind woke Harry up on the morning of his first Quidditch match.

His eyes snapping open, Harry rolled out of bed and went to the window, grimacing at the rain pelting the glass. Brilliant. He'd be lucky not to get blown off his broom (the no-brooms rule for first years did not apply to students on the Quidditch teams, allowing him to be sent his broom from home, which was a new Nimbus 2000).

Harry was by far the youngest and least experienced player on the team, with the second youngest and other new player, chaser Davies, in his third year, and when he'd got the place in the tryouts, much of the team had not been satisfied that his success wasn't just a bout of luck.

_Time to prove them wrong._

Captain Megan Jones and Captain Flint shook hands, Jones' face tightening as Harry assumed Flint crushed her fist, and almost before he knew it Hooch had blown the whistle and they were up in the air.

The wind instantly began to blow Harry off course, and he had to concentrate, tilting the broom into the wind, in order to carry out his loops of the field. He squinted as the rain got into his eyes . . . What was that repelling charm? Oh, yes - He whipped out his wand, keeping it hidden from the stands in case someone decided to call foul play. " _Impervius_ ," he said, smiling as a foot in front of his face now remained clear of water.

The wind died down for a brief moment, enabling Harry to hear commentator Lee Jordan call out in a desolate voice, "Thirty - Zero to Slyther-" before the howling gale picked up again.

Looking down, he could see that the Ravenclaw chasers, being smaller and lighter than Slytherin's, were having difficulty in flying steady, giving Slytherin the advantage.

He needed to catch the snitch, and quickly.

Looking around, he could see Slytherin seeker Higgs about halfway over the pitch - and was that a spec of gold behind him? Harry squinted. Yes, the snitch was hovering directly behind Higgs, who was turning round, going to see it -

Harry dived.

As he'd expected, Higgs instantly took after him, the snitch staying just out of his view.

Harry gritted his teeth as the ground came nearer. Fifty feet . . . Thirty feet . . Ten feet . . . He pulled up, the tail end of his broom clipping the ground, shooting up to where the snitch was still hovering as he heard the _thud_ of impact from Higgs. Harry stretched out an arm . . . Just another few centimeters . . . His fingers closed over the ball, crushing one of the wings, and he lifted his arm into the air in triumph, a wide grin on his face.

As he was being herded to the Ravenclaw common room for a celebration, he caught a pair of sharp red eyes watching him. He didn't turn around, but even as he went into Hogwarts and out of sight, his mood was soured, and he slipped out of the common room to go to the library within ten minutes of the celebrations starting.

The library was nearly deserted as he headed to the back, pulling out his pile of reference books and muggle notebooks from his bag.

The books were on a variety of subjects; some were on potions, some on dueling, some on bloodlines, a few on forming conjuring spells and one on wandlore (there were very few books on that subject that he could find). Harry had a different notebook allocated to each block of research; today, he reached for his potions one, intent on finding out the difference between clockwise and anti-clockwise stirring, when a voice from the next aisle reached him and he froze.

* * *

Voldemort had been both surprised and pleased at Evans' performance on the Quidditch pitch; the boy had, apparently unknowingly, carried out a perfect Wronski Feint. Was there nothing he was not good at? _I'll find out_ , he thought, smiling; he did love a good puzzle, and Harrikon Evans was nothing if not intriguing.

The Dark Lord swept towards Hogwarts library, remembering the book on wandless magic he wanted to pick up for Amelie as he was currently too busy to do much private instruction, and as he spied young Ronald Weasley sitting by himself, a homework essay half-heartedly completed on his desk and a bored expression on his face, his spirits lifted. Another thing to check of his to-do list.

" _Legilimens_ ," Voldemort said as soon as the boy looked up. He wrinkled his nose as he entered the disorganised mind, resenting having to duck and climb over thoughts - he didn't want to have to take the boy to the hospital wing if he destroyed his mind - to reach his destination: the area of the boy's mind that was taken up with family. He grabbed hold of conversations, fragments playing out before him, until he was satisfied that Weasley was not involved in his mother's and brothers' resistance. He already had proof against Molly, Bill and Charlie Weasley, but had not been sure whether the younger members of the clan were involved.

Apparently not.

Leaving the ginger facedown on the table, his nose leaking blood onto his essay, Voldemort summoned the book from the next aisle and walked out.

* * *

Harry did not move.

What had he just witnessed?

Intent on getting away from the scene as quickly as possible, Harry threw his stuff in his bag and speed-walked out, forcing himself to slow down as he entered the common room,then turning around and leaving before anyone saw him as he realised there would be people to deal with if he went up to his dorm.

He finally came to a stop at the top of the east tower.

Technically he was directly above the Ravenclaws, but they rarely came up here; it was difficult to find, with several trick staircases and hidden doors. Harry had used a useful 'point me' spell a few weeks ago in order to find his way up by trial and error.

Harry leant against the battlements, the wind, still strong but not quite as nasty as earlier, whipping his hair about wildly.

So. He'd heard Voldemort come in, and say a spell - _legiliman_ or something, he'd have to look it up - and leave after summoning a book from the shelf by Harry (he dreaded to think what would have happed had the Dark Lord entered the aisle to get the book and seen Harry there) and leaving behind a bleeding Ron Weasley.

Harry grimaced as a wave of guilt hit him. He should have stayed to help Ron, regardless of his feelings towards the dull boy. _Mum would be disappointed_.

What had taken the Dark Lord so long though? Harry had peeked through a gap in the bookcase and all Voldemort had been doing was standing there, looking into Ron's eyes, before suddenly stepping back with a disinterested sneer.

Harry didn't know.

He hated not knowing.

Harry braced himself against the wall. He didn't have to go down for a while. If they missed him at dinner, well . . . Tough. They could try to find him.

He closed his eyes, the complicated world around him fading as he let himself concentrate only on the feel of the wind on his skin.


	7. New Information

_Legilimancy._

Of course.

Harry snapped the book shut with a snap. How could he have been so stupid? He knew Occlumency, for Merlin's sake!

Frankly it was astounding that he had never come across the term while being taught, and then self-teaching when he surpassed Lily, Occlumency, but he'd always just thought of it in terms of preventing an invasion of his mind, and never put a name to said invasion.

The thought that Voldemort was a legilimens was rather disconcerting. Harry made a mental note to start practicing his Occlumency again.

"Konor, come on!" Michael called from the library entrance, receiving an irritated glare from Madam Pince.

Harry groaned. He'd forgotten that today there was an unofficial snowball competition, set up by the pair of Weasley twins, which in a moment of weakness he'd promised Michael he'd take part in. "I'll be out in a minute. You go."

Michael shook his head at the bookish Ravenclaw before leaving.

Harry perused the bookshelves for a few more minutes before a snowball came souring through the window he'd opened for some fresh air earlier, hitting him square in the face. He instantly stalked over to the window, but the culprit had run off.

Ah well. No harm in playing. He wasn't getting anywhere with his research anyway . . . Harry grabbed his cloak, hat and gloves from where he'd thrown them and went out to join the Ravenclaw team.

* * *

From one of the windows in Voldemort's tower, one could see a large expanse of the grounds, in this case the area where the four-way snowball fight was taking place.

Normally the Dark Lord would not be interested in the slightest by the juvenile antics, but he'd spotted a head of untidy raven hair on the winning team.

" _Visus Emandare_ ," he said, wand pointed at his eyes. His vision zoomed in on the young Ravenclaw, and a small smile curled his lips as he saw Evans directing snowballs at the other teams with his wand, out of view of all the other children who were thinking like muggles.

His enhanced vision picked up the silhouette of an owl heading towards him, and he cancelled the spell with a wave of his hand as he opened the window to let in the owl, which was carrying an advance copy of the Daily Prophet.

Unrolling the prophet, a cold smile stretched the Dark Lord's lips.

He'd have to make sure he was in the Great Hall for breakfast the next day.

There were bound to be some enjoyable reactions.

* * *

Harry awoke with a smile on the last day of term.

He would finally be able to talk to Lily about Voldemort, about his classes, about his friends, without having practically encode everything.

So when he walked into the great hall, a little late from having to repack his books, he was taken aback by the tense atmosphere.

"What's happened?" he asked Michael as soon as he sat down.

Michael wordlessly handed him the paper. Harry's eyes widened as he read the front page:

_Twelve Resistance Members Arrested!_

_By Helen Vaskovski_

_Yesterday, our Lord's men acted on over a year's worth of accumulated information and, in a mass operation with over a hundred aurors deployed over Britain, twelve Resistance members have been captured. Their interrogation will result in enough information to 'bring down the last vestiges of Dumbleore's legacy', said Minister Samson._

_The members arrested are as follows: Molly Weasley, Bill Weasley, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, Sturgis Podmore, Madon Jants, Gordon Park, Mundugus Fletcher, Laura Denison, Dylan Lane, Emmeline Vance and Archie Ashton._

_Evidence has suggested that five of the twelve were planning an attack on our Lord. They will be trialed after interrogations._

_For more information on the Weasleys, turn to page 2. For more information on Ex-Auror "Mad-Eye" Moody, turn to page 3. For more informaton on the others captured, turn to page 4._

_Aurors are still searching for Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Charlie Weasley, and of course Harry and Lily Potter. If anyone sees or hears a mention of their whereabouts, please alert the auror office._

Harry's head snapped up to the Gryffindor table. The Weasleys were nowhere to be seen . . . What would happen to them?

The reminder about Harry Potter was unwelcome, but as he subtly cast a charm to briefly enhance hearing, Harry could not hear many people mentioning 'Potter', and those that were had the general opinion that the pair were dead or long gone. Canceling the charm, Harry allowed a small smile to cross his face. _Perfect_.

Feeling red eyes on him once again, Harry smoothed out his expression. Voldemort had not made any attempt to speak with him after the first day, but just . . . _watched_ him. Every meal the Dark Lord attended was punctuated by the sense of being stared at, and Harry didn't know why. Sure, he was top of his year, but he was still a first year, and so should be inconspicuous and unimportant to the ruler of wizarding Britain.

Apparently not.

Oh well. He was at least leaving in a couple of hours, so the next few weeks should (he crossed his fingers under the table) be Dark Lord free.

* * *

"Harry! Lunch!" Lily called.

Putting his book on non-verbal magic down, Harry entered the kitchen with a weight on his mind.

They were nearly a week into the holiday and he still hadn't told her exactly _how_ interested Voldemort was in him.

"Mum," Harry started as Lily sat down. Lily looked at him questioningly. "You know I said Voldemort took an interest in me because of my spellwork?"

Lily nodded. "You don't have to be afraid of performing well, Harry, even if it does mean you get noticed."

Harry nodded his head. "I know. But with Quidditch as well - he hasn't spoken since the first day, but he keeps watching me, like he's assessing me-" Harry took a deep breath. "What if he suspects I'm Harry Potter?"

Lily smiled warmly at him. "Harry, don't worry. I'm sure he's just noticed how smart you are - there is _no_ reason to link you to Harry Potter."

Harry gave a reluctant smile and went back to eating, feeling like a weight he hadn't admitted he was carrying had been lifted off his shoulders. A few minutes later, he paused again. "What about the competitions? Should I strategically fail or try my best?"

Lily responded instantly. "Try your best. Harry, if you learn one thing in life, it's to always try your best. A half-hearted attempt just ends in regret."

Harry smiled widely, his eyes, restored to their natural green for the holidays, brightening. He'd have to have a look at his dueling books again . . . And as for the spell creation, well, he couldn't really do anything yet as the objective wasn't released until February, but he could read up on the technique . . . He drifted off as he planned his training. He'd damn well do his best. _I'll show them what a half-blood can do._

* * *

Voldemort did not like Christmas.

It made people stupidly emotional and full of sentiment, all wanting time off to give useless presents to their loved ones as a token of their pathetic feelings. The only saving grace was that it was easy to push bills through the Wizengamot with everyone looking the other way.

But this one was particularly bad. The five Weasley children - Percy, Fred, George, Ronald and Ginevra - whom he had no evidence against had to be put into the orphanages, which should have been simple but they'd put up a massive fight when he separated them, which had resulted in several tiring hours where he subtly threatened them before disregarding subtlety.

They should have been grateful - he'd kept the twins together.

In addition to that, the information given by the new prisoners, while resulting in two more successful arrests, had been far less informative than he'd anticipated, and if they weren't under Veritaserum he would have been convinced they were holding back.

There had been no success in finding any of the growing number of fugitives; the leads on Black and Lupin had lead to another dead end, while Charlie Weasley had disappeared off to Romania, a country who's government despised Britain.

He'd have to do something about improving bonds with other countries. After all, he had never intended to stop after conquering the country, and he had enough support now that the people would embrace a war . . . Provided he did not initiate it, of course.

Though a war against the whole of Europe would be both political and literal suicide. He would need allies.

Sensing Amelie outside the door, he called for her to enter.

"I've got the report on wands from Olivander, my Lord," she said, holding out a file. "Would you like me to sort through it?"

"No." He took the file, gesturing for her to leave.

The Dark Lord flicked through the bulky file. Olivander sold a lot of wands - more than he'd expected. He marked any entries where a young boy or woman had made the purchase, then going back to look at the highlighted entries again. Most he crossed off, recognising the names, but at some he paused.

_Harrikon Evans: Oak, Dragon Heartsting, Eleven inches._

Hmm. Nothing remarkable, despite the boy's spellwork.

He turned over the page and stopped at one entry, his eyes narrowing.

_Sam Jamison: Holly, Phoenix Feather, Eleven inches._

That was _his_ wand! Well, not technically his, but brother to his . . . Hadn't he told Olivander not to sell it? Yes, he had. _Stupid, foolish wandmaker._

Sam Jamison.

Voldemort ran the name through his head, and frowned. Nothing.

"Amelie." His apprentice appeared a moment later. "Run the name 'Sam Jamison' through our records. Description is-" he quickly found the accompanying description to the name "-around eleven years old, male, dark hair, green eyes and glasses."

Amelie nodded, but then stopped at the door. "My Lord, excuse me but isn't that the same description as Harry Potter?"

Voldemort froze. Surely it wouldn't be that easy, surely Potter wouldn't make the mistake of entering Diagon Alley without a glamour, but . . . Jamison. Son of James.

"Run the check, Amelie. As soon as- now, in fact."

Amelie disappeared.

Voldemort waited, hardly daring to hope . . . If Sam Jamison didn't show up on record, they might just have a lead . . . And didn't it all fit? His prophesied nemesis, his horcrux, wielding his brother wand . . .

The door opened to reveal am out-of-breath Amelie. "We have no Sam Jamison on our records, my Lord."

Voldemort rose. "Postpone all my meetings for the next few hours, Amelie."

"Yes, my Lord."

He Disapparated into Diagon Alley, quickly glamouring himself to avoid recognition.

He had a wandmaker to question.

* * *

Harry had a good Christmas.

Lily had bought him several new books along with a box of muggle notebooks and a nice muggle fountain pen; when it came to writing, muggles had far superior methods to the parchment and quill used by most wizards.

He had, with leftover pocket money from the year, bought her a new bag to replace her worn-out one, as well as a book on household spells. For all her magical ability, Lily had still been muggle-raised, and thus was unaware of some spells and techniques to use around the home.

It was quiet, and Lily had her moments where she gazed off into space with a sad smile on her face - remembering James, Harry had guessed years ago - but they were fewer and in shorter length than last year, which Harry considered an improvement.

He didn't ever want Lily to forget James, but it did her no good to be sad.

Harry had also received a present from Michael, another book, and was glad he'd followed his mum's suggestions and bought Michael a new gobstones set.

Harry went to bed late on Christmas Day, having curled up in a chair with his new books and lost track of time, and was surprised at the small owl that was tapping on his window.

Yawning, he let it in. "Hello, little one," he said, feeding it one of Hedwig's owl treats (to which the snowy owl hooted in irritation) and taking the small scroll it carried.

The parchment held only one sentence: _If anyone asks, your wand is Oak and Dragon Heartstring._

Harry turned it over, but there was no signature.

The only person who knew about his wand was Olivander. Had he been asked about his wand? Harry's brow creased as he yawned again, placing the note on his bedside table as he clumsily changed into his bedclothes and crawled under the covers.

 _I'll think about it in the morning_ , he told himself as he fell asleep.

* * *

"I ordered you not to sell that wand," Voldemort said in a deceptively soft voice.

The old man met his gaze. "I sell a wand to whomever matches it."

Voldemort sneered. " _Crucio_."

Olivander fell to the floor, his mouth open in a silent scream, thrashing until Voldemort released the spell. "That was for disobeying my orders," the Dark Lord said calmly. "If it wasn't for the fact your sale of the wand may lead to Harry Potter you would not be selling another. Do you understand?"

Olivander nodded.

"Now, tell me," Voldemort said, his wand pressed into the wandmaker's neck, "who accompanied 'Sam Jamison' when he bought the wand?"

Olivander swallowed. "A woman, my Lord."

"Describe her."

"Young. She had red hair, and I think green eyes," Olivander said slowly.

Voldemort smiled, excitement rising up in his chest. "When were they here?"

"The last week of August - the twenty-fourth if I'm not mistaken."

"Anything else?"

Olivander shook his head.

The Dark Lord stepped back. "Thank you for your assistance. I assure I will be in touch if I need anything else." He smirked at Ollivander's wide eyes.

Pulling his hood up, Voldemort strode out of the shop. On the twenty-fourth of August Harry and Lily Potter had been in Diagon Alley.

It was a small lead, but it was still a lead.

The Dark Lord stalked through the shadows of the Alley. Someone would remember the pair, surely - a shopkeeper, a beggar, a customer - and if they didn't tell him, it would be easy enough to legilimize them.

Voldemort smiled as he stepped towards his first target.

* * *

Leaving for Hogwarts again was hard. Harry didn't want to step into his Konor identity after having two carefree weeks at home with Lily.

He tried not to let his mother sense this, as she would still lean toward taking Harry out of school, regardless of the interest that would cause, if she knew he was unhappy.

Really, he wasn't unhappy. School was boring, but the library was large and he was looking forward to the competitions, as well as the match against Hufflepuff at the end of January.

After hugging Lily goodbye - a brief hug in case anyone was watching, of course - he made his way into an empty compartment, flicking a mild repulsion charm on the door to stop anyone disturbing him. The journey took a good five hours and he intended to make full use of the time with his research.

As he had expected, upon leaving the train on arrival he was immediately accosted by Michael, who exclaimed, "Where were you?"

"On the train."

Michael blinked at the deadpan delivery before rolling his eyes and getting into a horseless carriage with Harry, Anthony and Timothy Morris.

Harry took the opportunity to inconspicuously study Morris. The boy never said much, following Anthony around much of the time, and was quite average in his spellwork, but there was something _off_ about the other boy that instantly put Harry on his guard.

But he seemed completely ordinary. The average introvert with the desire for friendship but lacking the means to make one and so follows someone around.

Harry resolved to keep an eye on the boy.

* * *

It almost felt like he'd never left; the Christmas decorations had come down, and students were back into lessons the day after Harry arrived.

Harry did find it quite amusing how he often spotted some of his professors with their noses buried in lesson notes before his class, as they tried to find a first year spell which he hadn't already mastered.

Most had already given up and moved onto second year material.

This did mean lessons were getting marginally more challenging, but most of his entertainment still came from the only lessons he could duel in: Dark Arts and Defence. More often than not both Avery and Rivera paired him with Malfoy, and each time Harry thoroughly enjoyed taking the Pure-blood snot down a peg.

He sincerely hoped he would be up against Malfoy in the dueling competition, where he would be allowed to cause actual harm.

Aside from the occasional bout of monotony, the only damper on the month was the fact that Ravenclaw lost their match against Hufflepuff. Harry had caught the snitch, but not until after Hufflepuff's chasers were one hundred and sixty points ahead, as within the first two minutes of the match their keeper Sue Li had taken a bludger to the head and was out of the game. Unfortunately, they didn't have a reserve keeper, and so Hufflepuff managed to score nearly every minute.

Harry was just glad they'd only lost by ten points.

* * *

The first of February dawned with a rare blue sky.

Harry was one of the very first students up; the notice board in the common room had been updated with the rules for the competitions.

Harry scanned them. The dueling rules were as expected, mainly detailing the structure of the competition - the only rule was that you could not use the Killing Curse. The actual competition was to be spread over the next few months, with the first qualifying round in two weeks.

Enchantments was simply to create a charmed object, with the due date in April. They were to be marked on usefulness, how long the enchantments would hold and how skillfully the spells were woven into the object.

The broom race was staged like the dueling, with each round one week after a dueling round.

The final one was spellcrafting. Harry's eyes sped down the rules, a smile slowly forming. The only limitations were that it had to be a defensive spell, and the incantation could not be more than ten syllables.

_What fun._

Plans and ideas already forming in his mind, Harry headed back upstairs to grab his bag before going to the library, making a small detour to the nearly-empty hall to grab a few pieces of toast.

He even almost managed to ignore the bright gaze fixated on him from the center of the staff table.

* * *

Voldemort, for the first time in quite a while, could honestly say he was excited.

He had a lead on Harry Potter. Several shop assistants - from the apothecary, from the pet store and from Flourish & Blotts - had said they remembered a small dark-haired boy with a red-haired woman. The information hadn't turned anything else up but it did suggest Potter had been buying school supplies, which made Voldemort wonder - had Lily Potter somehow managed to send her son to a magical institution outside of Britain? It shouldn't be possible, not with the border wards, but he'd check with Karkaroff in Durmstrang, and his spies in Beaxbatons, just in case.

Of course, there was technically also the possibility the boy had come to Hogwarts, but that would be such a stupid course of action Voldemort dismissed it almost as soon as it occurred to him. Besides, he was aware of all the first year boys' home lives, and none of them featured living in hiding.

Furthermore, Konor Evans had just strode into the hall, picked up breakfast and strode out just as quickly with a planning face. The boy by all sources spent a lot of time in the library, and the Dark Lord would have rubbed his hands together in anticipation if it wasn't a mainly metaphorical action.

The onset of the dueling competition couldn't come sooner.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler chapter I'm afraid, which is the reason for the obscene amount of scene-jumping and time skips, but hopefully enjoyable anyway.
> 
> Regarding the pairing, nothing will happen until Harry is at least fourteen/fifteen. It may be slash, it may not - I have no definite plans.


	8. Dueling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold = Parseltoungue

The weekend of the first stage of dueling approached fast.

Harry wasn't sure whether to be pleased or disappointed in that because of the structure of the competition, he would be competing every dueling day until he dropped out; today was the first years, and six would pass through to the next round, which was tomorrow, to join in the second years. Similarly, the six best there would go through to duel the third years in two weeks' time, and then the top five from there would go up against the fourth years. In that way the whole of Hogwarts would be whittled down to the four best duelists within ten weeks. These four would then duel each other, with the person with the greatest number of victories becoming the winner.

The prize was to duel the Dark Lord.

Despite knowing how unlikely it was, Harry felt intensely curious as to how long he would last against the Lord. He wasn't arrogant enough to believe he could win against students who had studied for eight more years than he - let alone the ruler of wizarding Britain - but one could hope.

For now, he just had to beat every unskilled first year today.

Flitwick, who had apparently been a dueling champion in his youth, was currently writing the duels on a large blackboard at the front of the hall, which now held a raised dueling platform, ten meters in diameter, in the center.

The hall was full, with most of Hogwarts there to watch - and probably laugh at - the first years dueling.

Flitwick spun the blackboard round and Harry scanned for his name among the duels. He was up tenth, against Ron Weasley.

_Well this should be easy._

Out of the nine duels that were held before him, only one lasted more than one minute. Harry narrowed his eyes; it was obvious that the professors had paired one good student with a bad one, presumably in order to get the duels over with faster.

Harry grinned at Ron as they both stepped up to the platform, bowing before assuming a dueling stance.

" _Expelliarmus_ ," Ron said. Harry ducked out the way, feinting to his left before hitting Ron in the shoulder with a body-bind hex; Ron, his limbs frozen, fell to the floor. Harry strode forward and kicked Ron's wand off the platform, turning and stepping back into the crowd as soon as Professor Flitwick acknowledged his win.

Harry's next duel was against a Hufflepuff who seemed terrified of her own spells; he actually felt quite sorry for her. He beat her within half a minute, though and was frankly quite bored by the lack of challenge.

So when he saw that he was up against Malfoy next, he smiled.

When their duel started, Harry began to circle Malfoy, keeping his weight on his toes and his muscles ready to move. The staring contest lasted almost a minute before his opponent cracked.

" _Deprimo_ ," Malfoy said, the spell, which would burn a hole through Harry if it had connected, going over his head as Harry ducked.

 _Lethal spells already, Malfoy?_ " _Algus_ ," Harry hissed.

" _Contego_." Malfoy's eyes widened as the blue-tinted spell shattered his shield and hit him square in the chest. Although the power had been depleated by the shield, the blonde's torso instantly became covered in ice, and his lips turned slightly blue. " _E_ - _expelliamus_ ," he cast, his teeth chattering.

Harry ducked out of the way once again, but didn't retaliate.

Malfoy frowned. " _Dusculto_."

" _Resulta_." Harry's rebounding shield caused Malfoy's spell to go flying back at him, hitting him in the head and causing him to go temporarily deaf. Malfoy looked shocked and disorientated by the lack of sounds, and Harry took the opportunity to disarm him.

The tournament continued, though Harry had no more duels, and a few hours later, the six students to go through to the next round were announced: Harry, Daphne Greengrass, Malfoy, Susan Bones from Hufflepuff, and Dean Thomas and Parvati Patel from Gryffindor.

Harry spent the night cramming more spells into his head, finally going to sleep at nearly three in the morning.

* * *

Harry's last opponent of the day jerked forward, causing him to twitch back.

"Jumpy, Evans?" Isabelle Rosier mocked.

Harry had won his other two duels against the second years easily enough, but he'd watched Rosier over the day and she was a formidable opponent.

"Just a bit," Harry smiled. She'd actually given him an idea.

" _Sectumsempra_ ," she slashed her wand at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Harry's eyes widened as he recognised the dark spell, and he dived out the way; unlike most spells, _Sectusempra_ often had a large radius unless the caster focused it, and he had no wish to have his arm cut off. He rolled as he landed, shooting a stunner at her legs as he sprang to his feet. " _Sorbeo_ ," he whispered while she deflected the stunning spell. The spell hit the ground at her feet, appearing to do nothing.

Rosier looked surprised for a moment before laughing. "Aww, can the little mudblood not cast his spell?"

Harry smiled coldly at her, an almost feral look in his eyes. _Just another few seconds . . ._

The Slytherin girl made to step forward and fell on her face with a shrill scream, her feet having been slowly sucked into the floor by Harry's spell.

" _Expelliarmus_ ," Harry disarmed her almost lazily.

From the other end of the room, he thought he could make out Voldemort smiling.

* * *

There wasn't really anything he could do to prepare for the broom race the following weekend, so Harry spent his free time working on his spellcraft.

The basic idea was a shield that absorbed the spells thrown at it, and then could be thrown across the room by the caster, inflicting the absorbed spells on whatever it hit. If all went well, he'd be able to use it as a last resort in a duel, but currently he was having trouble with the incantation.

He had to find a phrase that contained information for exactly what he wanted to do in less than ten syllables, and keep in mind the intent behind the spell while he cast it. And he had to use another language, as otherwise it would be easily to accidentally cast it. _And_ he had to match the intonation to the wand movement.

Harry sighed. He was in an empty classroom, but he really needed a partner to throw spells at it to see if it even worked. Loathe as he was to do so, it looked like he might need to ask Michael to help him.

" _Capio cante_ ," he said, missing out the middle part of the incantation he'd used before. To his surprise, a large shield appeared in front of him. Harry gaped before his face widened into a grin, which faded as he realised he still needed someone to help him to know if it actually worked.

He said the second part anyway. " _Digredior_ _antexonero_ ," he said, willing the shield to move forwards.

The shield wobbled before exploding, sending Harry flying backwards.

 _Damn_.

* * *

The first broom race, which was between first, second and third years, took place around Hogwarts the following Saturday.

"On your mark . . . Set . . ." Hooch blew her whistle, and the mass of students took off.

Harry kept close to the ground, out of the wind for now, as he took the first corner. He had to pull up sharply to avoid ramming a Hufflepuff in the back, but by the time he'd reached the halfway mark, he was in the lead.

Rising up now that the wind was blowing in the direction he was headed, Harry sped up. He grimaced as he took the last corner too close, his shin scraping along the stone, but the cheers as he crossed the finish line first made up for it.

The afternoon was purely between the rest of the school, fourth year and above, so Harry went back to trying out his shield.

Sunday morning was the race between the top ten from the morning and top ten from the afternoon, which meant Harry was up against two other first years - Malfoy and Seamus Finnigan- three second years, four third years, one fourth year, two fifth years, no sixth years, two seventh years, three eighth years and two ninth years, this time around the lake, which was a much longer course.

He came fourth. Just about making it through to the final round, which was that afternoon.

After a hasty lunch, Harry was back at the start line, this time with fifth year Ravenclaw Toby Lennox, seventh year Hufflepuff Janet Jones and the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain Megan Jones. Frankly, the fact that three of the four were Ravenclaws spoke volumes about why they were currently winning the Quidditch championship.

This course, rather than being around the lake, was over it, through a series of hoops and obstacles conjured by the professors. Rather more difficult than just a loop.

There was also the fact that the obstacles appeared to be made of fire.

As soon as Madame Hooch blew her whistle, Harry took off, keeping slightly behind the leader. He squinted as they approached the first obstacle, a large hoop, and twisted so he was behind the Hufflepuff in front of him, passing through the hoop.

The heat told him that it was indeed fire.

There was a crunch from behind him and he twisted his head round to see. Toby Lennox had missed the hoop, and had crashed into the invisible barrier surrounding it, his broom snapped into two. Harry spared a brief moment to worry about whether the boy was even conscious as he fell into the water before he flattened himself against his broom to avoid being hit by a moving band of fire. Harry winced as there was a screech of pain followed by a splash from behind him. _One more down._

The Hufflepuff was still in front of him as they flew under a large ball of fire to pass over the finish line, and Harry hated himself for the small ball of disappointment that rose up his throat at not coming first. He looked up at the stands as Professor McGonagall presented him with a silver medal, and saw the Dark Lord giving him a cursory, unimpressed glance before he turned from the professor's box in the stands. Harry looked down.

It wasn't until he was in bed that night that his small ball of unhappiness of not impressing Voldemort turned to chagrined anger. Since when had he looked at the Dark Lord for appreciation? The man who would have him thrown in prison or killed if he knew who Harry really was for one second? _The man who killed my father?_

The Ravenclaw didn't sleep well that night.

* * *

Voldemort surveyed the duel from his position in the shadows of a doorway, in the corner of the hall.

Evans was indeed proving himself. He was currently competing against sixth years, the only first year to have reached past the third stage.

The boy was inventive and had a knack for using ideas and techniques with relatively simple spells which threw his opponent off guard. However, the Dark Lord did not expect him to make it past the next stage, against the seventh years; he would be going up against Emma Rookwood, who was a formidable duelist, and not only for her age.

He smiled, a gleam in his red eyes, as Harry beat his last opponent of the day with a rebounded entrail-expelling curse. The healers, always present for the upper-year duels, rushed forward to help Evans' now-defeated opponent, a muggleborn Hufflepuff if he wasn't mistaken, keep hold of his intestines.

Despite his status as a half-blood, Evans clearly wasn't leery of using dark curses.

Next Saturday's duel would certainly be interesting.

* * *

Harry eyed the boy opposite him. The seventh year Gryffindor, Kevin Entwhistle, looked very confident - hopefully that would mean he would underestimate the first year in front of him.

Harry opened his mouth to toss a stunner at the boy, but he exploded into movement, his spell chain flying towards Harry.

Time almost appeared to slow down as Harry's brain sped up, identifying the spells which were flying towards him in quick succession.

Stunner. _Duck_.

Sponge-knees jinx. _Jump aside_.

Slicing charm. " _Protego_."

Conjuctivitus curse. _Duck_. A small part of him noticed the spells were increasing in harmfulness.

Flesh-eating curse. Harry flattened himself to the floor.

" _Crucio_ ," the boy cried, his face lit up in his near-victory. Harry's mind helpfully supplied with the fact that the curse was unblockable, and he couldn't move out of the way from his position spread-eagled on the floor.

" _Capio can_ t," Harry said, closing his eyes.

The pain curse didn't hit him.

Harry opened his eyes to see a wobbling shield in front of him, with a jet of red light bouncing around inside it. Harry gasped in spite of himself - it had worked! And against an unforgivable - by all rules, no shield should have worked.

Harry climbed to his feet, wand out. He smirked slightly at the flabbergasted look on the Gryfindor's face.

" _Cieo_ ," he incanted. The shield moved forwards, and Harry offered up a prayer that this would work, both because his spell wouldn't look as good for the judges if he had to go back and improve it after using it in front of them, and because Entwhistle clearly needed to suffer his own medicine for once.

Entwhistle backed up to the edge of the dueling circle as Harry's shield, with the forbidding red light in it, moved slowly towards him. As it reached him, the front enveloping the tall boy, Harry said the final part of the spell. " _Kiadas_."

The shield exploded outwards, sending a pressure wave that would have knocked Harry back a step if he hadn't been ready for it. The red light inside arched into Entwhistle, causing him to fall to the floor, screaming as the full force of his own Cruciatus curse hit him.

Harry calmly strode forward and picked up the boy's wand before flicking his own to cancel the spell. Tossing Entwhisle's wand at Flitwick, Harry made his way to the board to see who he would be dueling next, his expression falling as he saw the name "Emma Rookwood" written neatly next to his to take place a couple of duel's time. The Slytherin, daughter of one of Voldemort's inner circle Death Eaters, was notorious for her Dark Arts ability.

He was so screwed.

Harry nervously ran through all the dark spells he knew in the half hour before he faced Rookwood. There were horribly few. All too soon, his name was being called again.

As he stood opposite Rookwood, the whole hall fell silent, Rookwood's infamy and his own spell from his previous duel making them interesting.

" _Sectumsempra_ ," Harry whispered, moving his lips as little as possible. Rookward countered the spell without saying a word, and he tensed; non-verbal spells were difficult to identify.

The girl's next spell caught Harry unawares, the jet of light curving slightly so his step to the side was not enough. Harry cried out loud as his arm felt like it was burned; he looked down at it briefly, and was nearly sick as he saw the band of raw flesh where both his robe and his skin had been cursed off. The wound was oozing blood, but the blood flow was quickly gaining speed, the red liquid dropping to floor in a shallow puddle. He needed medical attention, and soon, if he didn't want to lose consciousness from blood loss.

Harry sent a Strangling Curse, which sped through the air faster than most spells, at her neck. The orange coloured spell connected, but Rookwood dispelled it with a flick of her wand. Harry tensed, his wand ready for her next attack, and the two eyed each other, the only sound in the room the steady drip of Harry's blood.

There was a movement in the crowed, and Harry took his eyes off Rookwood to meet the red ones staring at him just as her wand moved, and a wave of air punched Harry, tossing him backwards against the floor. His head hit the stone with a sickening crack, but his muddled brain dully heard her incant, " _Crucio_ ," with a malicious note in her voice. Harry's arm moved sluggishly, making the sharp, wide movement required for his shield as he said, " _Capi_ -"

The spell hit him and there was a moment of excruciating pain before the world faded to black.

* * *

Harry's head hurt.

That was the first fact that he was aware of as he slowly drifted back into consciousness.

He groaned, his eyes flickering open only to squeeze closed as the white light made his head throb even more. He vaguely heard voices, fast and worried, and the sound of a curtain being drawn, before the world faded into black again.

* * *

The next time Harry woke, his head was much clearer, and the light did not burn as much. Though that really shouldn't have been a surprise, as when he looked around, it was dark outside, a small ball of red light at the end of the Hospital Wing the only luminescence in the room.

Madam Pomfrey, the head healer, hurried out of her rooms in a dressing gown and fluffy green slippers a few minutes later. Harry presumed an alarm had gone off when he awoke.

"Oh good, you're awake. We were beginning to worry, you know - you've been out for over a week," she chided as she pressed a potion into his hand. He looked at it suspiciously before his eyes flickered to a movement near the door. Squinting, he made out something that looked rather like a rope slithering out the door . . . A very large piece of rope. Harry gulped as he realised that it was probably Nagini, The Dark Lord's snake. He hadn't seen her before, and although the semi-darkness may have been exaggerating her size, he didn't think so.

"Drink up, Evans, it's not poisonous," the healer nagged. Harry opened the vial, sniffing it - it was a pain potion, he thought - before downing it in one. The remnants of his headache lessened, and, remembering the duel, he slumped back on his pillows with a groan.

He just had to be distracted at that moment, didn't he? Urgh.

Harry supposed he should probably be thankful he passed out from blood loss after being under the Cruciatus for just a few seconds. Speaking of blood loss . . . He looked down at his arm, pulling up the sleeve of his hospital gown with a slight feeling of dread. He let out a sigh of relief as he saw the new, pink skin stretched over his bicep; some curses could not be healed, and having a skinned upper arm for the rest of his life would have been rather problematic, not to mention painful.

"Evans," the healer started. Harry looked up to where she was dithering at the foot of his bed and raised one eyebrow. "Our Lord has requested to see you as soon as you wake up." She glanced at the spot by the door where he'd seen Nagini slither out. "So despite the fact that you clearly need more bed-rest, I'm afraid you need to go to his office. Do you know where it is?" The disapproval of the Dark Lord taking her patient was clear in her voice.

Harry nodded. "Can I have my clothes back?"

"I - Of course. They're under the bed."

Harry lifted the covers and swung his legs off the bed, gritting his teeth at the dizziness that filled his head.

"Come back here as soon as you leave the D- Our Lord. That's an order." Madam Pomfrey turned back to go into her room, her tone slightly flustered - presumably by how she'd nearly called Voldemort 'the Dark Lord', which was frowned upon for anybody who was not a Death Eater.

Harry slowly changed into his black school robe, his muscles protesting every movement. How much was from the duel itself and how much from the Cruciatus Harry didn't know, but he did know that he was in no hurry to be hit with the curse again.

Though keeping in mind where he was headed, that might be a hopeless wish.

Lacing his boots, Harry grabbed his wand from the table and made his way to Voldemort's tower, his stride easing slightly with every step, movement clearly helping his tired muscles.

Eyeing the two stone snakes which guarded the office, Harry said, hesitatingly, "Um, I'm here to see V- Our Lord." The snakes didn't move out the way, though one hissed at him, causing him to back up as step. "My name is Harry-kon Evans?" Harry inwardly cursed himself for the slip - he'd so nearly said Harry Potter.

" **Let him through** ," one snake said. Harry just about had enough time to wipe the shock of his face at hearing the snake speak when they moved aside, the door opening.

"Come in, Harrikon," the Dark Lord said from inside.

"Since when do you call me by my first name?" Harry blurted out, his eyes widening as he realised what he'd said.

To his surprise, Voldemort merely chuckled. " **A good question** ," he said in a hissing tone to the giant snake resting on his lap. "Sit down, Harrikon." He gestured towards the chair opposite him.

Harry sat down.

The man twirled his wand between his fingers. The movement was oddly fascinating, the wand appearing to spin on nothing at times. "Your performance in the dueling competition was very good." Voldemort raised his head so that his piercing red gaze was fixed on Harry's charmed blue one. "You got further than any other first year since the competition started five years ago. It is unfortunate that you allowed yourself to get distracted in your duel with Rookwood."

 _Yes, by you_ , Harry thought angrily. He nodded as if accepting the praise.

"I would like to propose that instead of wasting your time with your classmates, you take your Placement Indication Exams at the end of this year, in June."

Harry blinked. "Take my PIEs in June? But that's three years of material -"

"Which you have clearly already covered, Harrikon." The Dark Lord's voice was cold, but Harry disregarded the warning.

"Not all of it! And I won't have started any of the option topics -" Harry protested.

"I am not suggesting you move up two years. I am suggesting that you take your PIE for the subjects you are currently either taking or studying independently - so Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Defence, Charms, Potions and Spell Creation, judging by evidence - and then join the fourth years in September for those subjects, and the second years - so your own year - for other subjects." Voldemort let Harry take that in for a minute before adding, "And I would like to see that shield of yours - I presume you were planning on entering it as your spell for the spellcrafting competition?"

"Yes. My Lord." Harry was aware that his shoulders had tensed; he didn't like the almost sadistic gleam in the Dark lord's eyes.

"Stand up then." Voldemort stood from his armchair, drawing his wand. Harry hurried to do the same, and upon Voldemort's nod, incanted, " _Capio cant_." The shield sprung in front of him.

"Can it hold more than one spell?" Voldemort asked quietly, studying the oddly thick, shimmering shield in front of him.

Harry nodded. "It shouldn't have a limit, though I haven't tested it."

Voldemort nodded, and Harry had to suppress the urge to run as he lifted his wand. " _Rictusempra_ ," he said, his eyes fixed on the jet of light as it bounced around inside the shield. " _Tarantagula_." Again, the jinx was absorbed in the shield. Voldemort threw several more harmless jinxes before his lips curled upwards and he said, in a deceptively quiet voice, " _Crucio_."

Harry gulped, but the spell was absorbed just like the others. However, an uncomfortable pressure seemed to be building up around him, which only grew as Voldemort added an _imperio_ to the mix.

"I wonder," Voldemort said, his voice so quiet Harry barely heard it. His long fingers twitched around his wand, and he seemed to restrain himself, his eyes going from eager to almost disappointed. " **No** ," he muttered, turning his head to Nagini. " **I must not**." Raising his voice, he said to Harry, "Continue with the spell."

Harry blinked. " _Cieo_." The shield moved towards Voldemort, and Harry sent a questioning glance at the man, who nodded. Harry took a deep breath. " _Kiadas_."

Voldemort moved his wand, and though the shield exploded, the spells inside seemed drawn to the tip of the Dark Lord's pale wand instead of his body. Harry tried not to let his disappointment that he hadn't managed to _crucio_ the Dark Lord show, smoothing his face into one of blank curiosity.

"Impressive," Voldemort said. "And not easily countered."

Harry was dying to ask how it had been countered, but he kept his mouth shut as the Dark Lord settled himself back on his chair, hand reaching out to stroke Nagini. " **Isn't he** ," he almost crooned to the snake, who made a laughing sound.

" **Indeed,** **master** ," Nagini said. Harry blinked. Why did all the snakes seem to be talking? Was this normal?

Voldemort looked up and caught his bewildered expression, laughing coldly. "Parseltounge, Harrikon - did you not realise?"

Harry blinked. _Parseltounge_. Snake language, also spoken by Voldemort. And, apparently, understood by one Harry James Potter. He blinked again, but forced his face not to show how shocked he was.

"So, do you agree to taking your PIEs in June?" Despite the phrasing, there was an undercurrent of a threat in Voldemort's tone; Harry highly doubted he had much of a choice.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good." The Dark Lord waved his hand and the door opened. "And do make sure you head back to the Hospital Wing, Harrikon." Harry scowled slightly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Harry muttered, leaving the room. The door shut behind him, the two stone snakes sliding across it.

" **He looks scared, Arnold** ," one of the snakes hissed. The other one - Arnold? - hissed a laugh.

Harry glared at the serpents before remembering he probably wasn't supposed to understand them. "Stop hissing at me," he said weakly, hoping they didn't report back to Voldemort. Shaking his head, he yawned, suddenly aware of the aching in his muscles, and winced as his headache made itself known again. He sighed and trudged down to the Hospital Wing, only taking off his boots before collapsing into the bed.

His dreams that night were filled with snakes and curses.


	9. PIEs

Madam Pomfrey let Harry out the following Sunday - just in time for him to see the winner of the dueling competition, Onyx Selwyn, receive his prize - a duel against Voldemort.

Harry had ran into the hall as soon as he left the Hospital Wing, and pushed to the front of the crowd. The Dark Lord wasn't there yet, and Selwyn - a Slytherin ninth year - was standing with a group of friends by the stage, jokingly accepting congratulations. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Voldemort enter the hall, students jumping back out of his way to clear a path to the platform. Selwyn instantly stood up straight, head up and arrogance in his eyes, but Harry could see the fear he was trying to hide, the desire to impress Voldemort but the trepidation that he wouldn't.

"My Lord," Selwyn said as Voldemort passed him, lowering his head.

"Onyx Selwyn. The dueling champion of Hogwarts," Voldemort acknowledged in a slightly mocking tone, sweeping round to the opposite end of the dueling circle. There was a cruel light in his eyes. "Shall we begin?"

Selwyn nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. Harry simultaneously felt sorry for the man, and slightly jealous that he wasn't the one standing there, about to test himself against the most powerful wizard since the founders.

The younger Slytherin hesitated before he attacked. " _Sectumsempra_!"

Voldemort deflected the spell with his wand, and Harry leant forward, interested. Deflecting a spell meant that it would go careening off in another direction, without the use of a shield, but was notoriously difficult to do.

He barely registered the shriek of pain from whoever the curse hit in the audience.

Selwyn sent another spell, one that Harry didn't recognise, at Voldemort, this time not speaking. Again, it was deflected, and Harry leant back as it whizzed past less than a meter in front of his nose. The person it hit - a second year Slytherin - cried out in pain as blood began to stream from her eyes.

Harry frowned. Did the Dark Lord realise he was hitting bystanders? Almost without thinking, he looked up to glare at the man, just to find the red eyes, bright with an almost excited gleam, already fixed on his. A note of amusement swam through the eyes as Voldemort took in Harry's reaction, but then both turned back to the duel.

Ten minutes in, the Dark Lord had yet to even perform a spell, eight viewers had been taken to the Hospital Wing and Selwyn was sweating nervously.

Harry would have missed it if he hadn't been watching closely, but a sudden, sadistic light came into the Dark Lord's eyes as he raised his wand. The curse, black in colour, passed through Selwyn's hasty shield and hit his hip, the fabric disintegrating to reveal blackening, rotting flesh. Harry winced.

Selwyn, his voice having gone up an octave, cried out, " _Uma carne_!" Harry tilted his head as Voldemort cast a strong rebounding shield, the curse heading back at Selwyn, who's eyes widened, the student bringing up a wobbling shield which the almost colourless curse shattered.

The spell hit Selwyn's chest, and there was horrible wet noise before something started dripping. Harry watched in fascinated horror as the robe melted off the student's chest, followed by the skin and flesh to reveal the edges of his ribcage, which also started to liquefy. Harry swallowed to keep the bile down, and was taken off guard by the unexpected swoop in his stomach, something close to euphoria rising up. Harry gasped. What was- oh. His link to Voldemort. He looked at the man, the nausea rising again as he saw the gleam of glee in the Lord's eyes. How could anyone find pleasure in this? It was torture!

Selwyn weakly raised his wand, a sign that he wasn't giving up. _Idiot_ , Harry thought with sudden anger. Didn't he see he was just going to get even more injured?

Voldemort's next curse took the form of an expanding dark green bubble, which when it hit Selwyn enveloped his left arm, most of his torso and his neck. There was a moment of silence before Selwyn screamed, falling to his knees, before that was cut off with a sudden snap - presumably his vocal cords going. The bubble disappeared a few seconds later, and Harry would have turned away, but the sick feeling of joy had been joined by a dull headache around his scar and he couldn't seem to get his feet to obey him and why hadn't the duel ended yet and why was Voldemort so _happy_ -

For where the bubble had been, Selwyn's flesh was lacerated with deep cuts in the shape of small dark marks, the wounds oozing black blood. They were deep enough that the ones on his neck were just another inch or two short of making him Nearly Headless Nick's companion.

Voldemort raised his wand to cast another spell, but Selwyn frantically shook his head, heedless of the blood that came spurting out, and threw his wand at Voldemort. The Dark Lord stepped forward, stooping down to lift Selwyn's head up with a horrible tearing noise. Blood shot out of the boy's neck, a few warm drops hitting Harry on the cheek.

"Did you enjoy your prize?" Voldemort asked, his eyes alight.

Selwyn nodded, his eyes portraying complete defeat and submission.

"Good." The Dark Lord stood up, and after glancing briefly at Harry with something akin to gleeful curiosity in his expression - which caused another burst of those emotions to run through Harry - strode out the hall, leaving the healers to rush forward to tend to the defeated man.

Harry didn't move until they'd taken the limp body away, a hand slowly coming up to touch the drying blood on his cheek.

This wasn't right.

Harry spun round, suddenly eager to get out of the hall, his walk turning to a sprint as soon as he was out of sight.

No matter how much of a bully Selwyn was - and by the rumours in the school, he was a frankly horrible person - he had not deserved to be tortured. He was only nineteen, for Merlin's sake!

Voldemort had just stood there, _smirking_. What type of person enjoys melting the flesh off someone who was barely even of age?

Oh, right. A Dark Lord.

Reaching his destination - the top of Ravenclaw tower - Harry sat down against the battlements. The night sky was clear, stars shining down. Harry traced along the constellations with his finger: the plough, Polaris, Orion's belt, Sirius . . . Lily had taught him those. Apparently Sirius was his godfather, and while on the run like them, hadn't made contact. Hadn't found them.

Lily would be horrified by the dueling tournaments. Did she even know Harry had been in the Hospital Wing? He hoped not. She would worry, and not being able to come to Hogwarts on fear of being recognised would make it even worse for her.

Voldemort needed to be brought down.

As Harry lay there, looking at the stars, the resolution filled him. The Dark Lord needed to be killed. Maybe he couldn't do much as a simple first year, but he'd find the resistance - no, that would endanger Lily. He had to keep his identity secret, and the resistance, being mainly Lily's old friends, might recognise him.

He'd do it himself then.

Get close to Voldemort - which shouldn't be hard, the man had already taken an interest in him - and when he got a chance, kill him.

Though judging by today's duel, he'd need to get a lot better at spells to even stand a chance.

* * *

Harry stayed at Hogwarts for the Eater holidays, both because he was studying for his PIEs, and because Lily was working overtime at Madam Malkin's and wouldn't have much time for him anyway.

People had begun to avoid him more after his duels, he had noticed. Michael was the only one that would voluntarily sit by him in classes now, and while Harry did not really care about that he had the feeling he might feel slightly lonely without someone to occasionally make smart remarks to in class.

He also took advantage of the almost empty library to discreetly search for an answer to why he seemed to be able to understand Parseltongue.

Unfortunately there was little information on the language, and he had found no references to the trait being passed on through anything else except blood, and he was pretty sure he wasn't a descendant of Slytherin.

The only other answer would be that he'd got the gift from Voldemort in the same way he'd received his scar and the strange connection (on which there was absolutely no information on either) which wasn't a very pleasant thought. He had no wish to be even more connected to the Dark Lord. So, just in case, Harry researched a spell to show his ancestry.

The spell turned out to need a potion as well, which took five weeks to make, and needed ingredients such as dragon claw, thestral hair and his own blood. Luckily Snape's private stores yielded all of these (Harry was careful to conjure illusions to replace the taken ingredients so that Snape would, hopefully, not notice them missing for a while) and then there was the tiring job of completing the potion, in a dark room he'd found off a secret coridor.

Thankfully the actual making of the potion was not very complicated.

A few days before the potion was due to finish, Harry entered the Great Hall to get his toast in the morning to find it abuzz with talk.

"What are they- Oh," Harry started to ask Michael but stopped as he saw the crowd around Selwyn. The man had obviously just been released from the Hospital Wing, and from what Harry could see, still had bandages covering his upper body, as well as his left arm in a sling.

Harry's butter knife went through his toast with the unnecessary force he was putting into spreading the jam. Voldemort had put Selwyn in hospital for nearly two months.

The poor man only had a month until he took his SID (Specialist Intricate Degree). Harry highly doubted he'd be getting the grade he wanted.

He left the hall, but as he walked past the Slytherin table he winced as he saw the small marks on Selwyn's bandages where blood - thankfully no longer black - was still seeping through.

* * *

Harry stared at his potion.

Was it supposed to be pink?

The very last section of the instructions were illegible, having had something spilt on them, so Harry didn't actually know if it was even safe to drink.

Oh well.

Taking a fortifying breath, Harry poured the potion into a glass and downed it in one.

A strange, bubbling feeling started in his stomach and rose to his wand hand. Harry picked up his wand and pressed it to the piece of parchment he had ready.

" _Ostend stirpis_ ," he said, his vision blurring slightly. Names started to appear on the parchment, starting with him at the bottom and rising.

Several minutes later the spell finished - it should go back fifty generations - and Harry sat back, gasping. The book had said the spell would take energy, and it certainly hadn't been wrong.

Harry frowned as he sat up and studied the parchment. It showed him, his parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and many cousins - oh dear Merlin, he was related to _Malfoy_ \- clearly but in places the writing was blurred or whole branches looked like they'd been burnt off.

Tracing his direct ancestry up, Harry wasn't sure to be relieved or not when there was no Slytherin there.

At the very top of the ancestry tree there were three brothers: Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus Peverell. Harry was descended from the third brother.

Out of curiosity, Harry followed the other brothers down. Antioch's line was blurred out, but Cadmus' - Harry took a sharp intake of breath - joined with a Selena Slytherin, and the line, though blurred out for many generations, surfaced again with Corvinus Gaunt,, and his son Marvolo Gaunt, who had two children. One of them, Merope, joined with a Tom Riddle - a muggle? - to produce Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Interesting.

The line seemed to stop at Tom Riddle junior, who judging by the date would probably be dead or an old man by now.

Harry checked the other blurred lines coming from the union with Slytherin but they didn't emerge. A pity - one of them must be Voldemort, and Harry would have liked to know just how closely he was related to the Dark Lord. Thankfully, it didn't appear to be by much - indeed, so little that it probably didn't count. That was a nice thought.

Harry cleaned his cauldron with a quick _Scourgify_ and scurried back to his dormitory, already dwelling on the mystery of his understanding Parseltongue if he clearly wasn't a descendant of Slytherin.

Harry stopped short as a possibility occurred to him. What if he could speak it?

It would make sense. Kind of.

Though he certainly couldn't try out his theory here unless he wanted Voldemort finding out. Harry shuddered. If there was one way to scream, " I am Harry Potter" it would probably be revealing the fact that he was a Parseltongue and not a Slytherin descendant.

So the ability must have been passed on from the Dark Lord along with their connection.

Harry grimaced.

* * *

Placement Indication Exams were hell.

The actual material being tested was not that hard - Harry just had to remember it all - but the atmosphere from the third years he was taking them with was suffocating.

Of course none of them actual did anything other than make 'witty' remarks because they were too scared of him and his dueling skills, but it still wasn't a particularly nice feeling

Harry did, however, revise his opinion on Weasleys slightly; the twins, Fred and George, spent the time waiting outside exam halls to poke good-natured fun at him in loud voices, and he felt himself crack into a smile more than once.

The papers themselves were quite easy, although there was a small section on the Herbology paper that he had to guess because he'd forgotten to revise it, and there were a few questions on the history of Spell Creation that he didn't have a clue on.

The practicals were easy.

Harry used his shield again as an example of a spell he'd created in the Spell Creation practical, and was treated to the examiners looking rather closely at him after he explained it could hold an Unforgivable.

Not that they were actually Unforgivables anymore. The name society gave them had just stuck.

* * *

Harry managed to secure himself his own compartment on the Hogwarts Express on the way home, and as usual spent the journey reading.

On arrival at King's Cross, however, Lily wasn't waiting for him.

Harry waited - maybe she was late? - but half an hour later he was one of the only people left and several sets of parents were looking at him worriedly.

"Are you alright, kid?" One of them came up and asked.

"Perfectly fine, thank you," Harry said, pasting a smile onto his face. He didn't need help. "My mother will arrive in ten minutes, she just had to work late."

"Okay, kid. Have a fun holiday." The man winked and strode off.

When Lily hadn't arrived twenty minutes later, Harry, making a decision, stood up and started dragging his trunk towards muggle London, avoiding the stares of the muggles as he walked past. Had they never seen an owl before? He glared at a staring muggle child and she squeaked and hid behind her parents.

Once out of the station, Harry slowed. It was getting dark, and worry was beginning to claw its way up his throat. What if he got stuck here? He din't know how to get to Diagon Alley, and in any case their house didn't have floo-

Wait. Wasn't there some kind of bus for stranded wizards? The … Knight Bus?

Harry smiled, his confidence returning, and held out his wand arm to summon the bus.

It arrived with a bang, screeching to a halt in front of him. Harry wrinkled his nose.

"'Ello," the conductor, a pimply youth, greeted him, slightly taken aback at the lonesome small boy.

"How much to get to Whinlatter?" Harry asked, cutting him off.

The conductor blinked at him.

Harry sighed. "It's a few kilometers to the west of Keswick. In the Lake District."

"Oh! Yeah, it's eleven sickles. 'Firteen if you want a hot chocolate, fifteen for an 'ot water bottle an' a toofbrush in the colour-"

"My dental hygiene is not your concern, thank you." Harry handed him eleven sickles and let the young man drag his trunk onto the bus, sitting down.

Harry was a few minutes into the bumpy journey when he had to resist the urge to slam his head onto the glass. He'd just given away where he lived - a secret he and Lily had successfully kept for nearly ten years - to a _bus conductor_.

_Idiot_.

Hopefully they'd forget.

The conductor - who'd introduced himself as Stan Shunpike - finally annouced, "Whinlatter!"

Harry hastily jumped off, muttering a grudging "thanks" to Shunpike as he left.

He sighed as the bus sped off. It was a three-kilometer walk from Whinlatter to his home on Grisedale Peak, along an overgrown footpath which verged on being nonexistent at times. And it was dark, the moon, only half-full, the only source of light.

Dragging his trunk behind him - he wished he'd thought to put a feather-light charm on it while he was still allowed to do magic - Harry started the journey.

Two and half hours, about four blisters and a rather battered trunk later, Harry pushed open the unlocked door with his wand in his hand a feeling of dread in his stomach.

"Mum?" he called out despite knowing that if there was an intruder calling for Lily wouldn't really help. His shoulders relaxed with relief when he heard her say, in a slightly harried but otherwise normal tone, "In the lounge, Harry!"

Harry left his trunk at the door and, wand by his side, entered the small living room. The wand rose up again as he saw the man sitting at the table.

He had shoulder-length, slightly matted black hair and grey eyes, which filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he caught sight of Harry, his face draining of colour.

"Who are you," Harry demanded, wand pointed at the man's throat.

"Harry!" Lily stepped in front of him. "This is Sirius Black."


	10. Summer Holidays

Harry didn't lower his wand. "Sirius Black," he repeated, sidestepping to keep Lily out of his way.

The man - Sirius - nodded, his eyes wary but somehow soft.

"Would you care to explain why you've chosen this moment to appear?" Harry asked, his tone calm, hiding the turmoil in his head. "And, for that matter, how you found us?" If Sirius had found them . . . maybe they weren't as safe as he'd thought.

Sirius sighed. "It's a long story-"

"I have two months of holiday. I'm sure we have time."

Lily stepped forward again, grimacing, but after looking between them she muttered, "I'll bring your trunk up, sweetie," and left the room.

Harry and Sirius stared at each other for a good minute before Sirius relaxed back into his chair. "Sit down. As I said, it's a long story."

Harry sat on the edge of the chair opposite Sirius. "Go on then."

"When Voldemort killed the Longbottoms and James, the war didn't stop. Lily had fled with you, and I couldn't look - Dumbledore had me and Remus - Remus Lupin, has Lily-" Harry nodded impatiently. "Me and Remus on an important mission to destroy Voldemort. It was top-secret, but unfortunately we didn't make much, if any, progress; by the time Dumbledore was cursed, all we'd achieved was - well that doesn't matter." Sirius took a deep breath. "But anyway, I had to go on the run when Dumbledore died. The borders had been closed years ago, so I couldn't escape, and I didn't know where you were, so I went with Remus into the forests.

"Remus …" Sirius hesitated, giving Harry a searching look.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know he's a werewolf. Mum told me."

"Oh. Right. Well, anyway, Remus was having a hard time with his … transformations without the Wolfsbane potion, and so we needed money to buy it, or he might have ... might've died."

Harry blinked. _Lycanthropy is that bad?_

"So we needed to get money, which meant we either had to steal or get jobs. We managed for a time, with a mix of odd jobs and thievery, but about five years ago Remus disappeared." A haunted look came over the man's face. "I- I've never found him." Sirius closed his eyes briefly before continuing. "I was approached by the Resistance when I was searching. I've been doing their work, listening in on conversations, dropping off notes and other stuff for three years now. And we've found out a few things.

"Voldemort's new, _perfect_ world," Sirius spat," has problems. The muggleborns aren't liking the idea that they've been snatched from their families, and we've gained a lot of members that way. Voldemort's planning something, but we are too.

"My mission for the past few months has been recruitment, so I immediately tried to find you. It wasn't easy - I had to keep my ear to the ground, listen for anyone with your descriptions - but I found you eventually by asking the muggles in the nearby towns."

"Should we be worried about being found?" Harry asked, his face tight.

Sirius hesitated. "I don't think so, but when I was asking round, a lot of people had already been asked about you. Someone else is looking, and I don't know who." Seeing Harry's face, Sirius added, "But I highly doubt they'll ask the muggles."

Harry relaxed slightly, but contingency plans were already being formed in his mind. And who was asking questions? He ran through a list of likely figures - there was the ministry, or someone could just be interested in them . . . Or it could be Voldemort. Storing the unsavory thought away, Harry turned his attention back to the fugitive in front of him. "What happened to Remus?"

Sirius' shoulders slumped. "I don't know." His mouth tightened as if it was painful for him to admit. "We gt a few leads, but … they never lead anywhere. It's possible he's been captured, by the werewolf cult or by Voldemort, or …" he fell silent, the end of his sentence hanging in the air. Or he's dead.

Lily came in then, and Harry turned to face her. "You weren't at the station, Mum."

She winced. "I'm really sorry, Harry - Sirius turned up this morning, and I'd lost track of the days - I've been working overtime and bringing work home, I'm getting better work now, might even be promoted - but I only remembered about an hour ago, and I didn't know if someone had followed Sirius. I was going to send you an owl but then you arrived ... did you catch the Knight Bus?"

Harry nodded. He briefly thought about mentioning ow he'd told the conductor the address, but decided against worrying her further. Hopefully she wouldn't think about how, logically, he must have given the address of somewhere near them.

"Right then. Harry do you mind making dinner? I need to ready the guest room."

Harry nodded, ignoring Sirius' weak protest about not wanting to be a bother. "Scrambled egg okay, Mr Black? Sirius?" Harry amended at Sirius' surprised face.

Sirius gave him a crooked grin. "I've been living mainly off scraps and rats for a while, Harry - scrambled egg sounds amazing."

* * *

Voldemort waited impatiently in his office. Karkaroff had been expected eight minutes ago.

The door opened, the Headmaster of Durmstrang stepping through. His goatee was not as carefully curled as usual, and his cheeks were flushed.

"You're late."

Karkaroff knelt down. "I am sorry, my Lord. I was held up at the border - I rebounded off the barrier, ended up in Sweden -"

"Igor." Karkaroff instantly stopped speaking. "You came here to answer a question, not wax about your troubles. Stand."

Karkarrof stood, clearly glad not to be tortured on account of his late arrival. He stood before the desk, and Voldemort leaned forward, suppressing a grin at the concealed flinch. "Did you have a new, male, student last September, with any combination of dark hair, green eyes, glasses, and no father? Possibly answering to the name Sam Jamison?"

Karkaroff frowned. "We had a dark-haired boy called Cyle Gott enter second year, with glasses. But he lives with his grandparents."

Voldemort shook his head. "Anyone living with just a mother?"

"We have Steven Kilnov, my Lord. A first-year with commendable skill, but he's fair haired with blue eyes."

Voldemort considered. "Cast a glamour-removing charm on him, discreetly. And make an inquiry on his mother." He'd hoped Potter would be at Durmstang - he'd visited Beauxbatons the week before, with no results. "Is there anything else I should know about?"

Karkaroff looked taken aback at how short the discussion had been. "No, my Lord."

"You can go. I want your report on Kilnov within three days."

"Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort fingers started to tap rhythmically on the desk after Karkaroff left. Potter wasn't at Beauxbatons. He was likely not at Durmstrang. The chances had been slim to begin with, he supposed …

Lily Potter, from what Voldemort knew, would never settle for a mediocre education for her son; he wouldn't be in any of the small schools on the continent. No, he must be being home-schooled.

If they had escaped out of Britain then he had very little chance of finding them. But they'd definitely been in Diagon Alley - and the probability of them being able to enter and leave the country at will would be very unlikely.

Voldemort stood up. There was a log of everyone who entered and left the wards - you needed permission and a guide to enter or leave - and so if "Sam Jamison" or someone fitting his description wasn't there, the two must be in Britain.

Voldemort strode out of his office, ignoring the workers he passed.

The Department of British Security was a small but elitist section, filled with people personally vetted by Voldemort himself. He couldn't have a Resistance sympathiser letting people out unauthorised.

He waved the workers who bustled up to him away, heading straight for the book in the entrance room. The room was made of pure granite, and was the only way into or out of Britain; people who tried to Apparate through the wards would be bounced off.

The book was mainly full of politicians and academics, with a few deportations recorded.

The Dark Lord cast a searching charm. The book had six instances of a boy leaving, but under further inspection he saw that none of them fitted the description or were traveling with a woman.

They must still be in Britain.

Voldemort smiled as he went back to his office.

* * *

Sirius, it turned out, would be staying with Harry and Lily for quite a while. Originally, he had meant to stay a few days before contacting the resistance, but he and Lily had once been good friends, a friendship that was being rekindled - and as he stayed longer, he seemed to forget about his mission, which Harry noted with satisfaction.

While he agreed with the Resistance, joining them would just add to the danger of being caught. However, he did want to know about Sirius' mission before Dumbledore's fall; it sounded quite important.

The problem was that Sirius wouldn't tell him. No matter how much Harry mentioned the Resistance - which he had to be careful about as it reminded Sirius of how he was supposed to be converting Lily over to them - Sirius never mentioned his and Remus' old mission again.

The two spent quite a lot of time together with Lily working, and Harry came to realise that while Sirius was an accomplished wizard, he was also very immature. This did, however, make him quite fun, and his stories of the practical jokes he'd played at Hogwarts did give Harry some ideas just in case he ever needed to get revenge on anyone.

Harry's twelfth birthday, on the last day of July, was celebrated with a cake, new robes, a book on advanced dueling techniques from Sirius (who had been almost insultingly surprised when he heard how well Harry had done in the competitions) and, later in the evening, a letter bearing the Hogwarts crest.

Lily gasped. "Harry! Your PIE results!"

Sirius rolled his eyes and sat down on the sofa. "Give him the letter, Lily. It's only PIEs."

Lily glared at Sirius but handed Harry the envelope, and after a moment's hesitation, he carefully opened it and slid the parchment out.

There were several pieces, but the top one had _Placement Indication Exam Results_ emblazoned on the top, so Harry let the other fall to the table as he read down the letter.

_The following grades indicate a pass: O - Outstanding, E - Exceeds Expectations, A - Acceptable._

_The following grades indicate a fail: P - Poor, D - Dreadful, T - Troll._

_You may proceed to OWL in subjects where you pass. You may retake a PIE in subjects where you have a P._

_You must have at least six pass grades in order to continue. You may retake the year if you have at least three._

_Harrikon Evans, your results are:_

_Transfiuration - O_

_Defence - O_

_Herbology - E_

_Dark Arts - O_

_Charms - O_

_Spell Creation - E_

_Potions - E_

_Congratulations._

_Kind Regards,_

_Elwen Moffiat, Deputy Head of Education_

Harry smiled weakly before passing the paper to Lily, who hugged him tightly. "Well done," she whispered, and when she pulled back he thought he could see small tears in the corner of her eyes.

"Four O's and three E's, two years early. Well done kid," Sirius patted him on the back, though Harry caught a fleeting dark, almost disappointed shadow in the man's eyes before it was wiped away. Ignoring it, Harry grinned back, turning his attention to the parchment on the table. One was a form to fill in for his option topics, and the other … the other was a short letter from Voldemort. He carefully opened the envelope:

_Harrikon,_

_I congratulate you on your test results. What the PIE letter does not tell you is that you achieved one of the highest ever scores in both Defence and Dark Arts, and it was only your history and theory that let you down in Spell Creation. You were also just a few marks off an O in Potions._

_I expect you to take your PIEs for your options (I recommend taking Arithmancy and Ancient Runes) next June, possibly along with OWLs for some subjects. While I expect you to start your OWL in most of the subjects you have just passed, if you were to drop one (for example Herbology) to make room for another subject that would be acceptable._

_While you can self-study if you feel you need to take more subjects than your timetable can take, you can, but I do not advise embarking on too high a goal. Your timetable can stand you taking a total of nine subjects._

_I heard that your mother did not pick you up at King's Cross; I trust you are both well?_

_\- Lord Voldemort._

No longer smiling, Harry wordlessly handed the paper over for Sirius and Lily to read. "I don't think he's suspicious," he said quickly. "He's probably attempting to look like a normal person, and thinks poking his nose onto other people's business shows he cares." Harry didn't believe his words, but if Lily thought they weren't safe, they'd pack up and go - go to the Resistance where they would be no safer. _And I wouldn't get to go back to Hogwarts._

Lily nodded. "You're probably right." She placed the paper gingerly on the table. "Now, you need to pick your electives. Have you decided yet?"

Harry shook his head. "I'll think about it." He smiled, picking up the letters and turning to go up to his room.

Once there, he shut the door and leaned against it, a pulse of anger shooting through him. How dare Voldemort "recommend" what he take! _He doesn't control me!_

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. He needed to write a reply, but that could be done later. _Options now._

So. He could take nine in total, unless he wanted to self-study, and could only really drop one subject as he wanted to continue everything except Herbology.

It would be best to have a total of ten or so PIEs, so he needed to take three more. Then he could continue in six subjects for OWLs, and take another OWL elective.

Right then. PIEs. Harry reluctantly conceded that Voldemort was right in his recommendations - Arithmancy and Ancient Runes he certainly wanted to take. Care of Magical Creatures also sounded interesting.

In all likelihood, he would probably be able to take the OWL in those subjects at the end of the year if he put enough study time in.

For the extra OWL option … Harry glanced back at the papers. Voldemort hadn't said anything about this; presumably he wasn't expected to take one. But the options letter detailed OWLs as well. He could take Magical Art, Astronomy or Healing.

Harry certainly wasn't a artist, but Astronomy and Healing both sounded interesting. Perhaps he could take one and study the other? Healing would be useful in any case.

He'd take Astronomy and work at Healing in his own time, Harry decided.

Sitting down at his desk, Harry started filling out the form.

* * *

 _Hmm_.

Voldemort's head tilted as he looked at the elective form in front of him.

Harrikon had taken his advice … mostly. He'd chosen Arithmancy and Ancient Runes and dropped Herbology, but he'd also decided to take Care of Magical Creatures - Voldemort hoped the boy would drop it after the PIE - and an extra OWL in Astronomy.

Oh well. If the boy bit off more than he could chew, the mental breakdown would at the very least be entertaining.

At least he hadn't taken Magical Art.

An owl tapped on the window, and Voldemort lazily flicked his hand to let it in.

The envelope landed on his desk and the owl swooped out, not even stopping for a rest like most owls. _Odd_.

He picked up the envelope and turned it over, suppressing an involuntary smirk at the address:

_Lord Voldemort,_

_Ministry of Magic (probably),_

_Somewhere in London._

Tearing it open, the Dark Lord's red eyes sharpened with interest as he saw the signature of his young pupil.

 _My Lord,_ (the letter begun)

_Thank you for your congratulations, and for the extra information on my grades._

_I expect you've seen my elective choices by now anyway, but if you haven't, I've dropped Herbology and chosen Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures for PIEs and Astronomy for OWLs._

_My mother had overslept, which was why she didn't pick me up, but we are both fine. Thank you for your concern._

_\- Harrikon Evans._

Voldemort frowned slightly; Harrikon had certainly taken his time replying. The Dark Lord had sent his letter in with the PIE results nearly two weeks ago. Someone had misplaced the records in school as he had not been able to get hold of the Evans' address; the PIE results were just labeled with his name.

Now he thought about it, that had been rather odd as well.

There was a knock on the door. Voldemort sighed; that would be Lucius for his report of Death Eater recruitment. He set the letter aside and called for the Malfoy head to enter.

* * *

This year's trip to Diagon Alley - again in the last few days of August - brought with it a sense of melancholy. The summer had been a carefree few months; Harry had been Harry again, without any constraints, without any pressure. Lily had been happy to have the house inhabited again, and Sirius had been just as happy to have a stable place to stay.

But now the term was just a few days away. Harry would have to adopt the persona of Harrikon Evans, and while Lily wouldn't be alone, Sirius had been getting a thoughtful, sad look on his face lately. Harry knew he was dwelling on how he should be taking Lily to the Resistance.

Sirius obviously couldn't come to the Alley, so it was just Lily and Harry once again. They visited the bookshop, spending several happy hours in there until Harry noticed Hermione Granger come in and immediately left, hoping Hermione hadn't noticed him. His hopes were in vain, however, for as they left the shop he saw the girl glance over at him resentfully before going over to the shelves full of advanced spellcrafting that he'd been browsing.

Thank Merlin he'd only have a few classes with her this year.

When they passed by Olivander's Harry turned to his mother and, on an impulse, said, "Do you mind if I go in to talk to Mr Olivander for ten minutes? I'll meet you in Fortescue's."

Lily hesitated, but agreed, and Harry, after checking that it was empty, darted into the shop.

Like last time, Olivander was nowhere to be seen, but Harry could feel another presence in the shop. "Mr Olivander, I know you're there. I just want to talk."

After a minute, Olivander emerged from the shadows. "I have expected you for a while, Mr Potter," he said in his papery voice.

Harry nodded curtly. "Why did you tell me to say my wand was Oak and Dragon Heartstring?"

"The Dark Lord," Olivander said slowly, "came looking for a list of wands I sold. I knew that if he saw your name against his brother wand, he would be … curious. Though, from what I have heard, you have peaked his interest already, Mr Potter."

"It wasn't intentional, I assure you," Harry said with a slightly bitter smile. _I just didn't realise the rest of Hogwarts was so stupid._

Olivander nodded. "I put the name Sam Jamison against your wand, and gave you a nondescript, relatively common combination."

"Sam Jamison … Jamison … You want him to think that I - that Harry Potter has my wand. But-" Harry cut himself off. "Yes. So he's chasing after 'Sam Jamison' instead of me, thinking he's Harry Potter." Olivander nodded. "I … Thank you."

Olivander inclined his head. "Was there anything else you wished to talk to me about, Mr Potter?"

"No. Thank you." Harry nodded to Olivander before spinning round and leaving.

What had made Olivander decide to help him? He'd got the impression that the wandmaker generally stayed out of conflicts. But it seemed he'd picked a side, Harry's side - even if Harry wasn't sure which one he was on himself.

Lily was waiting at one of the tables around Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, Harry's favourite flavour - caramel - under a freezing charm on the table.

"Thanks," Harry said, sitting opposite.

"I want you to be careful," Lily said quietly.

Harry paused in his ice cream eating. "I'm always careful, Mum," he said, flashing her a smile.

Lily smiled back, but it was one of sadness. "Something's going to happen, Harry. I can sense it."

Harry frowned, flicking up a quick charm to avoid eavesdropping. "You can _sense_ it?"

Lily nodded. "I know it sounds stupid, but … yes, I can feel it. Something's coming. Maybe not now, maybe not for years, but it is. And I want you to be careful." She fixed her eyes on him, her face stern. "Perhaps it will be Voldemort, perhaps it will be the Resistance. Perhaps it will be a passing stranger. But something will happen, and _you need to be careful_."

There was a strange, almost glazed look in her eyes now. Alarmed, Harry leaned forward. "I'll be careful, Mum. I promise."

She smiled, her eyes clearing. "I know."

Harry finished his ice cream as Lily sat back, watching the Alley. He was just about to stand up to leave when Lily said in a low voice, "There's a wizard by Quality Quidditch Supplies. He's been following us."

Harry casually glanced over. "Which one?"

"Black robes, hood." Lily stood up. "Come on, Konor."

Harry took the signal to drop back into his role of Harrikon. "Do we have time to drop by Flourish and Blotts again? There's this book on introductory healing that-"

"No, Konor. I need to put the dinner on, we're having spaghetti bolognese tonight."

Harry rolled his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man start walking in the same direction as they were. He had an odd gait - fluid, but the weight was biased towards the left leg. An injury?

The man didn't try to stop them as they Disapparated.

* * *

Voldemort flung down his quill.

It was an uncharacteristic display of anger, and the three in his office - Lucius Malfoy, Rudolphus Lestrange and Amelie - flinched back.

"How," the Dark Lord asked, his voice a growl, "did he manage to escape? From right under your nose, nonetheless!" He glared at Rudolphus.

"I'm very sorry, my Lord." Rudolphus dropped to his knees. "The guard - he must have been a sympathizer. We did manage to injure Weasley-"

"And do you have the guard?"

Rudolphus gulped. "N-no, my Lord. We have his body-"

"His body is not much use, is it?" Voldemort took a deep breath. " _Crucio_ ," he hissed. Rudolphus screamed, while Malfoy and Amelie looked on, their expressions blank.

He ended the curse after a few minutes. "Take him away," he ordered. Malfoy and his apprentice picked up the spasming man and carried him out, the door shutting quietly behind them.

Voldemort sat back the desk, plans to combat the development already forming. He'd have someone create a wanted poster. And an article for the Daily Prophet. They needed the population to be on watch more than needing to look good.

Bill Weasley would be found soon enough.

* * *

The first of September was another solemn day.

Sirius hadn't said anything about the Resistance; Harry thought he had decided to wait a while. It was clear that the fugitive didn't want to move, although he'd been talking about getting a job in the muggle world, to help pay for his food. Lily had shushed him immediately, but there had been a stubborn look in Sirius' eyes that made Harry smirk.

But Sirius wasn't here now - just Harry, Lily and his trunk. Hedwig had already flown ahead.

Lily hadn't mentioned anything more about being careful, but Harry had caught her worried gaze on him many times.

As the clock hand neared the hour, Lily kissed him on the cheek. "Have fun. Don't work too hard,"

"Me? Of course not," Harry smirked, but he hugged her tightly before picking up his trunk and boarding the train.

Lily had to be at work by eleven, so Harry wasn't surprised when she was gone by the time he'd found an empty compartment. But a lump came into his throat nonetheless.

Ignoring it, Harry cast a locking charm on the door - oh, it was so nice to be able to cast magic freely again - and hissed, " **You can come out now**."

A small snake slid out from his collar. Harry had, on one of the rare occasions where both Lily and Sirius were out, carried out his experiment to see if he was a true Parselmouth. His efforts had resulted in one snake getting rather attached to him, and refusing to be left behind when he said he would be going back to Hogwarts.

He'd named her Selena.

" **Can I go hunting?** " Selena asked.

Harry shook his head. " **No, you'll get seen, and Voldemort can't know I'm a Parselmouth. I've got some dead frogs, though.** "

The snake didn't really have facial expressions, but Harry imagined that if they did, Selena would be curling her lip at him. " **Dead ones are no fun,** " she grumbled.

" **Tough.** " Harry fished out the bag of small frogs and fed them to her. She was a common grass snake, green-grey in colour, with black bars down her sides and spots on her head. Harry had found her when she was just twenty centimeters in length; now she was more than double that.

Footsteps sounded and Harry tensed. " **Hide**."

He looked up to see a short boy - a first year? - knocking on the window. He considered ignoring him, but … _Mum would let him in_.

Harry lifted the locking charm and the boy, nervously flicking his hair out his eyes, asked timidly, "Can I sit here? There's no other seats -"

 _No_. "Fine."

The boy smiled, not put off by the short tone. "I'm Colin Creevy."

Harry very nearly groaned. "Harrikon Evans."

Colin grinned at him. "What house are you in? I want to go to Gryffindor, it sounds the best - I've got muggle parents, do many people? When do we get to learn spells?"

Harry gritted his teeth and stared out of the window, eventually getting a book out of his trunk.

By the end of the train journey, Harry was itching to curse the boy, but he had to concede one thing: Colin was certainly persistent. Harry hadn't answered him once, and he'd kept taking until his throat was raw, all the way to Hogwarts.

_Next time I'll put an Notice-Me-Not charm on my compartment as well._

Harry climbed into a horseless carriage with a couple of other students he didn't recognise, looking up at the night sky. He would be learning Astronomy soon - what secrets were hidden in the stars? He smiled ruefully. Probably none.

Harry was nearly at the Great Hall when he realised the weight around his neck was no longer there. "Oh, no," he muttered, sweeping around. Selena was nowhere to be seen.

Casting one last look at the open doors to the hall - he had five minutes, if that until everyone settled and the first years came in - Harry started running back along the corridor.

He didn't dare call out for her in case someone overheard him, but there was no sign of her. Stopping, he cast the charm to magnify his hearing and stilled, listening.

Nothing.

He sprinted another hundred meters back along the corridor, then stopped again.

Footsteps.

Harry froze, spinning round to look for somewhere to hide. There was a suit of amour - he jumped behind it, his breathing loud in his ears.

The chattering of first years filled his ears, and he stood like a statue as they filed past him. Merlin, what if they'd stepped on Selena? He bit his lip in worry.

As soon as they'd gone, Harry moved again, running deeper into the dungeons, stopping every hundred meters or so.

A few minutes later, he heard it: the slither of scales over stone. He ran down the corridor, stopped, turned and ran down a side corridor.

He could hear the hissing now. " **I can smell you … I can catch you …** "

She'd gone _hunting_?! Now? _Stupid snake._

At last, he caught sight of the small brown reptile near the side of the corridor. Breathing a sigh of relief, he picked her up and hung her around his neck. She curled around him, her body shaking slightly. " **I was lost,** " she said, her tongue tickling Harry's neck. " **Thank you for finding me.** " She snuggled closer into him, burying herself under his robes.

Harry sighed, his anger disappearing. " **Don't slither off next time,** " he chided. His heard sank as he realised they would be well into the feast now, possibly even past the sorting. Could he skip it? No, he'd be missed. And he was hungry anyway.

He'd just have to try to avoid attention.

_I hope Voldemort isn't there._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You now have all that is written - the next chapter is in progress, and will hopefully be up in the next week or so. :)


	11. Detentions

The hall was particularly noisy this year.

It was to be expected, Voldemort supposed; the escape of Bill Weasely had been the headline of yesterday's papers, and with four Weasleys still in school, the topic was bound to be talked about.

The pool of first years had been smaller than usual this year; they, last year and next year would be the smallest years due to the lack of children born when the fighting of the war was at its fiercest. Though war orphans did always make for interesting cases - even if it would probably be better for him if so may of them were not biased against him by the small matter of their parents' deaths.

Voldemort scanned the tables, taking in the moods of the different groups at a glance. The Slytherins, on whole, were their normal quiet, the power plays already starting. Gryffindor was divided, some subdued, some talking angrily; those closest to the Weasleys were defensive.

Hufflepuff's friendly atmosphere had not changed at all. Voldemort's lip curled slightly in a sneer as he surveyed them; most Hufflepuffs were, in his experience, good only for servants or unimportant jobs.

Almost against his will, the Dark Lord found his eyes traveling over to the place at the Ravenclaw table where Harrikon usually sat. His eyebrows furrowed slightly when there was no sign of the boy; upon further inspection, he saw Harrikon was not anywhere at the table.

Had he skipped the feast? _I'm sure there's a punishment for that …_

A movement caught his eye. One of the doors was being pushed open lightly, and a small figure slipped through, the eyes darting up to Voldemort immediately. Harrikon's gaze only rested on him for a second, but Voldemort's didn't waver. He watched the young Ravenclaw with narrowed eyes as he sat down next to one of his dorm mates, taking in the red flush on his cheeks, the hair that was even messier than usual. The boy had been in a hurry, possibly running - but what from? Or why had he been detained, was a better question.

Voldemort leaned over to Snape. "Inform Evans that I expect him in my office directly after the feast is over." He'd get his answers then.

"Yes, my Lord. May I ask why?" Voldemort's gaze hardened, and Snape bowed his head and looked away.

As soon as the meal ended, Voldemort stood and swept out the hall, noticing that Evans appeared to have a headache; he pressed a hand to his forehead as the Dark Lord strode out. Perhaps he had gone to the Hospital Wing before the feast? No, from what he knew, Harrikon hadn't gone to the Hospital Wing on his own accord once.

Student jumped out the way as he walked up to his office, joined by Nagini within a few minutes.

" **Did you have fun hunting**?" Voldemort asked.

Nagini chuckled, draping herself over her master's shoulders. " **I did. Tell that boy from the kitchens his pet was delicious**."

Voldemort resisted the impulse to groan. The number of pets that went missing every year from first years who didn't know any rodents or other small animals were, almost without fail, snatched up for Nagini's dinner meant that there were a lot of complaints made. Hopefully the Hufflepuff wouldn't make a fuss, not like the Gryffindor a few years ago - now that had been a _nightmare_ …

He nodded to the stone Arnold and Sleve as he they moved out the way, Nagini slithering off him to lie by the fire as soon as the door closed.

Voldemort waited impatiently for the boy to arrive; surely Severus would have told him by now? "Phineas," he snapped at one of the portraits. "Find out where Harrikon is."

The painting of the old headmaster bowed and disappeared, returning a minute later. "He is on his way up the tower, my Lord."

Voldemort nodded, standing by the fireplace to face the door, setting his face into an emotionless mask.

The door opened, Harrikon confidently walking in. There was no flush on his face this time; he hadn't hurried, and was composed - ready for an interrogation?

"Good Evening, Harrikon," Voldemort said, keeping his eyes fixed on the boy's. They were almost blank - almost. Wariness bled through the boy's unpracticed mask. _It shouldn't be too hard to get him off balance_. Voldemort stepped closer, close enough that Harrikon had to look up at him. "Have you read the Hogwarts rules, Harrikon?"

"Of course, my Lord."

"Then could you tell me which one you broke tonight?" The Dark Lord laced his words with a slight hiss of menace.

The Ravenclaw's eyes flickered slightly. "I do not recall going to the bathroom being against the rules."

So that was his excuse. Voldemort twitched his lips up in what he hoped was a smile; whatever it was, it had the intended effect, Harrikon freezing. No doubt he was feeling trapped now. "Of course it is not," he said smoothly. "Would you care to rethink, then, how you have broken the rules?"

Harrikon didn't reply for a moment - perhaps mulling over hoe best to answer. Voldemort smiled again. "Though if you are not smart enough to read and remember a set of rules, I'm sure I can make the necessary arrangements for you to be put back in your rightful age group."

Harrikon inhaled sharply, an almost petulant expression sliding over his face before he made an obvious effort to smooth it out. "I would assume, then, that I somehow broke the rule by accidentally missing the start of the feast."

"Ah, but therein lies the issue." Voldemort stepped even closer, noticing how the boy twitched back. "It wasn't 'accidental', was it?"

"I assure you -"

"Because a boy of your intellect would have realised that a bathroom trip would make you miss the feats, and if that had really been the reason you would have asked a professor for permission."

Harrikon fell silent.

Voldemort smirked. "Tell me, Harrikon, what is the punishment for purposefully missing the feast?"

"I don't remember."

The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow.

"I don't remember, my Lord," Harrikon said after a moment.

"Better. Unlike many infringements, this particular bout of rule-breaking is to be punished 'at a member of staff's discretion'. So, Harrikon," Voldemort's eyes gleamed as he saw a shade of fear enter the boy's eyes, "that means it is up to me."

Harrikon raised his chin as Voldemort stepped closer, his eyes defiant. _Interesting_. "Now, tell me the real reason you were late and I may let you off."

Harrikon's eyes widened. "I already told you, my Lord - I needed the bathroom."

So that was how he was going to play. Voldemort pushed at the boy's mind with his legilimancy, and almost stumbled back when he met iron shields. The Dark Lord could tell he'd let the shock break through his mask; the boy's Occlumency was advanced. Far too advanced for a twelve year old.

 _Hmm_.

"Alright, Mr Evans. You may go."

Harrikon blinked, turning to leave.

"Oh, and Harrikon? I expect you here at seven o'clock for the next two weeks to carry out your punishment."

The Ravenclaw did not reply, nearly slamming the door behind him. Such disrespect. _I'll have to cure him of that._

The boy was clearly hiding something. The question was, what was it?

* * *

Harry threw himself down on his bed, eliciting a hiss of disapproval from Selena. _Damnit_. He'd been caught, and the man now knew that he could do Occlumency and was suspicious. And on top of that, he had two weeks' detention with Voldemort. _Two weeks!_ With the bloody Dark Lord that he was supposed to be avoiding!

Harry rubbed his face. Should he tell Lily? No, she'd just worry. And she might start to consider joining the resistance if she thought he wasn't safe.

" **Selena**." The snake didn't appear, still angry at him for landing on her. He sighed. " **You're going to have to stay out of sight when you're here, okay? It was dangerous enough bringing you here in the first place** …" Harry groaned again. His impulsive decision to take Selena with him looked like it had been one of epic stupidness.

Harry rolled over and tried to get to sleep.

The following day passed in a blur. Harry didn't have any new lessons on Wednesdays, and even though he was doing fourth year material in the others it wasn't really much harder.

There was also the fact that the whole school seemed to resent him for being so far ahead, especially the fourth years he had many of his classes with and the year he - according to Hermione - should be in.

By dinner time, Harry was so fed up with the whispers of cheating he stormed out of the hall, reflecting bitterly that his exit would probably give the rumours even more momentum.

Harry sought refuge in a book, pulling the curtains round his bed and blocking out the accusing stares. But he couldn't seem to get past the first page, anger making the blood pound in his ears. _Who are they to judge?_

Giving up on his book, he threw himself down. It wasn't until several hours later that the hangings were timidly pulled back.

"What?" Harry growled, his softening his expression as he saw it was Michael.

"Erm," Michael swallowed. "Our Lord sent a message to say -"

"Crap," Harry jumped up and grabbed his wand in one motion. He'd completely forgotten about the detentions. "Thanks," he called back as he ran out of the dormitory.

Worry gnawed at him as he sped through the corridors. He was over two hours late; hopefully the Dark Lord would believe him when he said he'd forgotten …

The snakes on the door hissed at him as he skidded to a halt. " **Foolish boy,** " one said.

" **Master said to let him through, Arnold**."

Arnold harrumphed, and they slid aside, the door opening. His heart pounding, Harry stepped through, the door shutting behind him with an ominous thud.

Voldemort was sitting at his desk, and motioned at the chair in front of him without looking up. Harry hesitated, but sat down, watching as the Dark Lord wrote out something on the roll of parchment. Trying not to be obvious about it, Harry cast his eyes down to try to read the letters, but it seemed to be in runes, which was a lesson he started tomorrow.

Minutes passed, and although there was no clock as far as Harry could see, the sun's shadow moved across the desk, eventually disappearing altogether to leave them in the dim light of the moon.

Harry dared not cast a time charm; even though Voldemort had not even glanced his way, there was a tension in the room that seemed to warn him not to move.

A click echoed through the room as Harry rotated his wrist slightly to ease out the stiffness, and Voldemort finally moved.

Setting his quill down, the Dark Lord surveyed Harry, his red gaze revealing nothing. "So, Harrikon," he said pleasantly. "Do you have anything to say? This lateness of yours is getting rather repetitive … "

Resisting the urge to swallow, Harry raised his chin and met the Dark Lord's eyes. "I apologise, my Lord. The detention slipped my mind. And I have only been late twice."

"Two times too many, Harrikon. Am I really that forgettable?" Voldemort seemed almost amused. "To ensure you do not forget again, I will do my beat to make the detentions … interesting. Stand up," he commanded, rising himself.

Harry backed away slightly as the Dark Lord took out his wand. "We will be dueling, Harrikon," the man said, a humorless smile stretching his mouth. "Oh, not properly. Currently, yo are of no use to me dead."

Well, that was always nice to hear.

"For tonight, however, you shall be practicing your dueling stance." The man rose, assuming a pose with his body half turned away from Harry, his wand hand hidden behind his back but poised to move. "Copy," he ordered.

Harry mirrored Voldemort, who nodded. "Raise your arm slightly. And your weight needs to be on your toes." He appraised him once again, then sat down, appearing satisfied, and returned to his work.

Bemused, Harry started to move, but froze when Voldemort barked at him to stay still.

 _Of course._ Voldemort would never let him leave without a punishment.

Harry's muscles cramped as time passed, slowly becoming numb. It wasn't until past the first rays of dawn that Voldemort finally glanced up again. "You may go, but I expect you to be on time tonight."

Harry tried to shift, but his body wouldn't respond and he fell over like a block of wood, letting out a sharp noise of pain as his shoulder struck the floor.

The Dark Lord chuckled.

Harry glared.

He managed to stand up after a few minutes, and staggered to the door, nearly falling over again as it opened as soon as he leant on it.

" **Doesn't he look stiff,** " muttered one of the snakes.

The other chuckled.

Harry limped to the hall, trying to stand up straight as he walked in.

"Where were you?" Michael asked.

"Detention," Harry replied tonelessly.

"All night?" Michael's voice was incredulous but hushed, and Harry glanced up with a scowl to find Voldemort eating his toast. The man hadn't got any more sleep than him; how did he look so alert?

Harry dozed through his lessons, which, he reflected later, was a bit of a shame as he'd had Ancient Runes and Astronomy, and they were, if not difficult, at least new.

The detention that night consisted of Harry bringing up a variety of shields until he was so exhausted he very nearly fell asleep in the Dark Lord's office. Voldemort let him go around nightfall and Harry barely remembered the walk back to Ravenclaw tower, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Thankfully, the night of sleep meant Harry was more awake for Potions on the Friday morning, as several of the Gryffindors in the class had taken to trying to sabotage his potion.

"Mr Evans, stay behind," Snape ordered as Harry was packing up.

Once the rest of the class had packed up, Harry went to stand in front of Snape's desk. "Sir?"

"How are you finding the class?" the professor inquired, his black eyes appearing uninterested.

"Fine, sir," Harry said, resisting the urge to frown. Snape had shown no interest in his work apart from the occasional nod before.

"Will you be ready to take the OWL this year?"

Ah. So he was doing this on Voldemort's instructions.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You are dismissed."

Harry left.

His stomach rumbled as he started to head up out of the dungeon, but it wasn't that which stopped him short. He could have sworn he'd heard something else, a voice …

Harry shrugged when nothing happened after a minute, and continued upstairs.

* * *

"Evans? He's just a cheating mudblood."

The aristocratic voice reached Harry, and judging by the smirk on Malfoy's face as Harry spun around, it was meant to.

Forcing himself not to give in and attack, Harry smiled tightly. "Aww, that's almost cute."

Malfoy's smirk didn't fade, and he stepped closer. "And apparently mentally imbalanced and word-dumb, too. Anybody want to be charitable and get Evans a dictionary for Christmas?"

Harry cocked his head. "Was that supposed to be a comeback or a secret desire to give me gifts?"

"Definitely mentally imbalanced," Malfoy shook his head, "Poor little mudblood."

"It's funny," Harry said pleasantly, noticing that they'd drawn quite a crowd.

Malfoy sneered. "What's funny? Your parents?"

"How someone with a father in the ministry doesn't even know how 'mudbloods' have been statistically proven to be no worse, and often better, than pure-blood wizards. Also, Malfoy, do your research; my mother is a witch."

Instead of being cowed as Harry had hoped, Malfoy just stalked closer, a cruel smile forming. "Oh, yes. It's _your_ mother who's the mudblood whore."

Harry's wand was in his hand within a second, pushed up against the blonde's throat a moment later. "Would you like to repeat that, Malfoy?" he whispered, and the various bystanders drew in a collective breath.

Something poked him the chest: Malfoy's own wand. "With immense pleasure," Malfoy breathed, his eyes alight with something that was almost manic. "I said, your mother is a mudblood wh-"

Harry's knee hit Malfoy's wand away and a burst of anger sent the Slytherin flying back, slamming into a wall, his bag spitting open. A few items landed by Harry's feet, and he could scarcely contain his glee when he spied that one of them looked like a diary.

"What's this, Malfoy?" Harry said, picking it up.

"Th- that's mine, Evans." Harry looked up in surprise. Malfoy had gone even paler than usual.

"Well," Harry said, slipping the book into his bag. "Isn't that a pity."

Malfoy yelled and brought his wand up, but Harry was ready and quickly disarmed him, sending an _incarcerous_ for good measure. "See you, Malfoy," he said pleasantly, turning on his heel and stalking away.

His smiles dropped as he rounded the corner, fury making its way back onto his face. _How dare he._

Ducking into a secret corridor behind the tapestry of Widella the Windy, Harry leant against the wall, replaying the event. At least Malfoy had ended up worse off than him, if the look on his face when Harry took the book was any indication.

Fishing the book out of his bag, Harry's slight triumph turned to disappointment. It was completely blank.

Well, not quite completely. Embossed on the cover was the name T. M. Riddle, and the first page revealed that it was from muggle London fifty years ago.

Why would Malfoy be so upset about a blank diary? And a second-hand one to boot? Perhaps it had sentimental value, a gift from a relative … but Riddle was a muggle name, and in any case the idea of Malfoy being sentimental brought a smile to Harry's lips.

He was sure he'd heard the name "Riddle" before … Harry frowned, running through a list of the people he knew, but no one came to mind.

Perhaps there was actually writing, just hidden? " _Revelio_ ," Harry tried, but nothing happened. He'd have to look up more revealing spells.

Exiting the passage, Harry made his way up to his dorm and threw the diary into his trunk, taking out his bag to start on the mass of homework - all his OWL classes gave enough to keep him busier than last year by a significant margin. And some of the subjects almost challenged him, which was nice.

* * *

Voldemort paced his office.

The boy was coming along satisfactorily - well, more than that, really, he was extremely talented - but there was still something … something odd, and he didn't know what it was.

The Dark Lord sent a glare towards the ministry missive on his desk. Bill Weasley had continued to evade the Death Eaters and Aurors, and from what he knew of the man, he wouldn't be resting quietly.

No, he'd be planning something. Something big.

Pushing the Ravenclaw out of his mind, Voldemort Apparated to the ministry.

His ministerial office was always empty.

So when he saw the figures there, Voldemort's wand was out before he even materialised.

The figures immediately fell to their knees. Voldemort lowered his wand slightly as he saw it was Malfoy, Amelia and two other Death Eaters.

"Have I not made it clear that my office is -"

"My Lord," Malfoy interrupted, grimacing as he did so. "I apologize, but there has been an attack."

"Where?" Voldemort shoved his servant's insubordination out of his mind as he switched into focus.

"Diagon Alley, my Lord. Madam Malkin's and several surrounding shops were hit with an explosive device."

Pulling on the connection between him and his marked Death Eaters, Voldemort Apparated to the Alley. Where Madam Malkin's had once been was a blackened skeleton of a building, the front completely annihilated.

"How many died?" Voldemort asked Malfoy, who had been dragged along by his Dark Mark.

"Eight, sir - Madam Malkin wasn't in the store at the time, but five assistants were killed, two customers and one from the neighboring shoe store. A message was left …" Malfoy led the Dark Lord inside the ruin, stepping over the debris, and gestured to the message burned into the back wall:

_You'll die, Dark Lord_

"Succinct," said Dark Lord muttered, "Do we know the culprit?"

Malfoy shook his head. "I would guess at either the Resistance or Weasley."

Resisting the urge to yell at his servant, Voldemort closed his eyes briefly. "Yes, Lucius, I gathered that. Run a search on the handwriting and find out the spells used. I want a name by dawn."

Malfoy straightened. "Y-yes, my Lord. May I go?"

Voldemort waved him off.

"Is the area cleared?" he snapped at the nearest Death Eater.

"Yes, my Lord," the woman said.

"Set up some protection charms around the area then re-open the Alley. Make sure the newspapers only send out the casualty details and the fact that there is an investigation taking place."

"Yes, my Lord." The woman turned away.

Voldemort held out a hand, briefly touching the woman's shoulder to stop her. She froze.

"Clear all Death Eaters from the street."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Go."

The Death Eater left, and Voldemort, after waiting a minute for the rest to leave, closed his eyes.

Wizards often left Apparition traces. The size of the magical residue increased with the distance of Apparition, and decreased with time and the experience of the wizard.

Bill Weasley was only twenty-two. Chances were he would have left a detectable trace.

 _There it is_. A magical hum from his left. Voldemort stepped closer to the source until the power seemed at its highest, and then Apparated, following the trace.

He opened his eyes to the sound of waves. He appeared to be on a breach; where, though he didn't know. The temperature and wind suggested he was on the western coast, but not too far North … he turned, searching for clues. There were mountains, the tops covered in snow that glinted in the moonlight. North Wales, then.

Voldemort walked around the beach, but there were no more traces, and the faint imprints of boots disappeared into the sea. _Brooms, then, or portkeys. Or perhaps some type of ship?_

Taking out his wand, Voldemort cast a detection charm which would alert him if anyone entered the area, but desisted from setting an anti-Apparition charm; if someone Apparated here, their Disapparition could lead him to another important location.

Having found out as much as he could from the trace, Voldemort Disapparated.

* * *

"Erm, Harry, where does your mum work again?" Michael asked at breakfast.

Harry raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Madam Malkin's, why?"

Michael winced, handing him the newspaper.

The title leapt out at him: _Diagon Alley Attacked, Madam Malkin's Destroyed._

Harry's toast fell to his plate and the colour drained from his face as he speed-read the article.

_Please, no …_

A paragraph at the end leapt out: _A total of eight died: customers Gia and Lionel Johns; shop assistants Kiani Jackson, Jessica Howard, Sam Yates, Evin Seren and Ana Patel; and an assistant from the shoe store "Boots for Life", James Morris._

Harry started breathing again.

She hadn't died.

_Thank Merlin._

Harry picked up his toast again with shaky fingers.

Once he'd recovered from the shock, Harry began to wonder about the attack. Was it the Resistance? The paper just said it was being investigated.

He'd send a letter to Lily … Harry stood up and left the hall, a new worry gnawing at him - the prophet hadn't said anything about people being injured, what if she was in St Mungo's? _Fatally injured?_

Harry paused halfway up to the tower. A letter would take over a day to get any reply, and if she was injured, she probably wouldn't be able to reply anyway …

Harry turned around to go to Voldemort's tower.

Dread seemed to get heavier in his chest as he approached, images of Lily dying forcing their way into his thoughts. Gritting his teeth, he reached out to knock on the Dark Lord's door, only to pull his hand back sharply as one of the snakes snapped at him.

Harry opened his mouth, forcibly making himself speak in English; it was all too easy to speak Parseltongue unconsciously while looking at a snake, as he'd discovered with Selena. "I want to speak to our Lord."

" **Should we?** " One snake said to its partner.

" **I'll ask,** " the other snake hissed, slithering back into a hole by the door. He reappeared a moment later. " **Master says to come in.** " Both snakes moved out the way, and Harry nodded thanks, suddenly questioning whether this was a good idea.

The door opened with a push, and Harry stepped in, looking around. The office was messier than usual, with papers strewn across the desk and chairs.

"Well, this is a surprise."

Harry jumped and spun around. The Dark Lord was standing behind him, smirking slightly.

"I was - that is, I-"

"Yes?" the amusement was distinctly evident now.

"I saw the papers, and I wanted to know if my mum is okay." Harry swallowed at the sudden interest in Voldemort's eyes.

"Your mother? Why?" There was cruel amusement in his eyes now.

Harry clenched his teeth. "She works - worked - at Madam Malkin's, and the paper said there was an attack."

"Ah, yes. What was her name again?"

For a frightening moment, no name other than Lily Potter was on Harry's lips, and he started to panic. _What was - Ellie - Ellian -_ " … Ellian Evans."

Voldemort's red eyes gleamed. "What will I get in exchange for finding out, Harrikon?"

 _Yep._ This had been a bad idea.

Harry bit his lip before noticing what he was doing and smoothing out his face. "An extra detention? My Lord."

"An extra detention, yes … you will be here Saturday morning. All day."

Harry frowned. "But that's the Quidditch match!"

Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

 _Damn_. Jones was going to kill him … _But what if mum's - No._ He had to know. Harry gave a reluctant nod, and Voldemort smiled. "Your mother is fine - all employees were required to confirm that they were still alive after the attack, and she was not in the shop at the time, escaping with no injuries."

Harry's shoulders relaxed, and he closed his eyes for a second, thanking whatever was up there that she hadn't been touched by the explosion.

"… Thank you."

Voldemort smiled, the cruel, amused light playing in his eyes again. "Saturday, eight o'clock sharp. And I do believe you've missed the beginning of Arithmancy …"

Harry glanced at his watched and frowned; he was already nearly five minutes left, and Professor Vector would give him a detention for sure … "Could you -"

"No note, Harrikon. I'm afraid it is your own fault."

Harry glared at him before walking past the Dark Lord to the door, almost expecting to be stopped for impertinence. However, he was let past, and Harry told himself he only broke into a sprint to get to Arithmancy faster, not to escape the merciless red eyes - not at all.

The extra detention would be a pain.

_But at least I know Mum's okay._


	12. Bargains

_Dear Konor,_

_I'm perfectly fine - I was not in the shop at the time of the attack, thank Merlin!_

_It's terrible what happened, though. Jessica and Kiani were both good friends, and Ana Patel, while I didn't know her very well, is aunt to the Patel twins who I believe are in second year._

_In answer to your inquiries about how long it will be until Madam Malkin's will be rebuilt, don't tell the newspapers this but the answer is never - Madam Malkin was heading for retirement anyway and has decided she'd had enough and is applying for a permit to go on holiday to France._

_This does of course leave me jobless, but I'm applying at the the robe shops, and at Slug & Jigger's as well. Fingers crossed!_

_I'm sure you're keeping up with all your studies, but do be careful not to lose yourself in them. Spend time with your friends as well._

_Love,_

_Mum._

Harry had forgotten Lily was now out of a job.

A crease formed on his forehead as he frowned. This could be rather problematic, although her long time at Malkin's ought to give her a good reference.

He had noticed the Patel twins had been rather subdued, but hadn't taken much notice. I should probably console them or something.

Now, however, he had a detention to go to.

Voldemort had instructed him to go to his office as per normal, but to wear walking boots and a cloak. So presumably they would be going somewhere outside the castle, bur other than that Harry didn't have a clue.

The Dark Lord was waiting in the office when he arrived. "Good morning, Harrikon. Hold onto my arm."

Apparition? "But we're in Hogwarts," he protested, placing his hand loosely on Voldemort's proffered arm nonetheless.

He didn't receive an answer; presumably the pressure of the Disapparition was deemed enough.

They appeared on a hillside, and Harry had to screw up his eyes against the wind and rain. Wherever they were, it wasn't near Hogwarts; there was a blanket of snow on the ground, and the first flakes had yet to appear at school. Somewhere further north, or high up, then.

Voldemort began to lead Harry towards a large outcrop of rock, striding over the snow without even leaving a track; Harry had to struggle to keep up. "Where are we?" he asked, but got no response other than a quickening of step.

The Dark Lord didn't slow down as he reached the rock, and instead glanced briefly at Harry before abruptly halting and pushing him forward.

Harry closed his eyes in a grimace, but the expected impact never came. He opened them with a gasp; the interior was a large cavern, built entirely of dark rock and metal.

It was both amazing and terrifying.

"Follow me."

As Harry hurried after Voldemort, he tried to read the plaques on the doors they passed. Some were names, none of which he recognised until -

Harry Potter

Lily Potter, read the next door.

They swept past the two doors, but Harry's mind was whirling. Was this an investigation center?

"My Lord," someone said, and Harry refocused as they passed Lucius Malfoy. The man's silver eyes flickered briefly, revealing a hint of what he thought was jealousy before his face hardened into contempt.

Voldemort finally stopped when they were deep down in the rock, by a door menacingly labeled Death Row. Harry tensed, but the Dark Lord opened the door without a pause and led him in.

The room was long, with cells on both sides, a corridor down the middle. There was a lurch in Harry's stomach as he saw that most were occupied, many with people who looked barely old enough to Apparate. They looked up as the duo passed, but none spoke, fear rising in their haunted eyes.

But the worst thing was the absolute hopelessness in their eyes, in their slumped shoulders, in the set of their faces.

What were they doing here?

What was he doing here?

Is this where I would go if discovered?

"This, Harrikon, is my headquarters."

"Your secret base?" Harry couldn't help the small, amused smile that crept through. The idea was just so cliché - of course Voldemort had to have secret base from which to make his evil plans.

Said Dark Lord raised an eyebrow, and Harry wiped the smirk off his face. "Now, Harrikon, I want you to pick a prisoner."

"What? Why?"

Voldemort smiled. It wasn't a nice smile, Harry thought distractedly. Full of malice and satisfaction. "To test your shield on, of course."

Harry's heart sank. "My … Shield?"

"To see if it can withstand a killing curse. Didn't you guess?"

Crap. Harry swallowed, glancing at the prisoners. "But it shouldn't. It won't."

He continued as if Harry hadn't spoken. "I want you to pick one, and teach him the spell."

"I can't. I won't."

Voldemort's face darkened, and his wand raised before Harry could move. " _Crucio_."

Pain.

His bones were melting, flames roasting his skin from the inside out, hammers nailing his head, drilling through -

It stopped, and Harry lay on the ground panting, aware now that he'd fallen to the floor. And had screamed, judging by how sore his throat felt as he sucked in air.

"Get up," Voldemort said, disappointment lacing his tone.

Harry scrambled up, wobbling slightly, his muscles aching. He glared at Voldemort, but kept silent.

"Now," the Dark Lord said, and it was evident from his hardened ruby eyes that he would not tolerate any more defiance, "Pick one. And keep in mind they are all destined to be killed anyway."

Harry considered, standing stiff, before jerking his chin up. "And you will allow them to live if the shield absorbs the spell?"

Voldemort's thin lips twitched, out of irritation or amusement Harry didn't know. "Yes."

"And they will be free?"

Voldemort paused. "Under supervision, but yes. They will not be ensconced in a cell."

Harry nodded sharply, turning to the cells.

Each had a plaque on the wall next to them, containing name, age and a few sentence explaining their wrongdoings. Rage boiled up inside Harry as he read some of them: _Stole from the Malfoy family. Caught spreading anti-Lord propaganda. Eavesdropped on Death Eater meeting three times._

Harry stopped at _Anitia Davidson, 12. Suspected member of resistance_. "She's twelve!" he said heatedly, turning on the Dark Lord.

"No younger than you. Do you chose her, then?"

Harry wrung his hands. "Can she even do magic?" Merlin, this was horrible.

The girl looked up slowly, her dull eyes meeting his. "Yes," she croaked.

"This one?" Voldemort repeated, taking out a wand from a locked box above the cell.

Harry nodded, swallowing.

The cell was opened with a wave of the Dark Lord's finger, and Harry ducked inside to pick up Anitia, but she recoiled away from him. "I can walk," she said, her voice slightly stronger.

Acquiescing, Harry stepped backwards and watched as Voldemort gave her her wand back. She closed her eyes briefly as the magic ran up her arm, and when she opened them, there was a blue fire rekindled in their depths. "What's the spell?"

Harry quickly took out his wand and showed her the first movement. "A diagonal cut down towards your left foot with incantation _Capio cant_."

She followed his instruction and the shield popped up, not as large as Harry's had been but still strong. Harry became aware of a sharp pain in his lip and he realised he'd been chewing it; shaking himself, he nodded at Voldemort.

" _Expeliarmus_ ," Voldemort said, and nodded in satisfaction as the spell was absorbed into the shield. " _Crucio_."

Harry tensed, but the Unforgivable was likewise absorbed.

"Release and recast the shield," the Lord ordered.

Harry blinked. Yes. That made sense. "Say _Ceio_ with a small clockwise circle," he whispered. The shield moved forwards, and Voldemort cast a mildly irritated glance at Harry before swiping his wand through the shield, dispersing it. "Recast."

Anitia shivered, and Harry placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "Recast it as strong as you can," he said, trying to keep the fear, the turmoil out of his voice.

" _Capio cant_ ," she said, her voice strong and chin up.

She looked the Dark Lord straight in the eyes as he raised his pale wand again. " _Avada Kedavra_."

The emerald spell raced towards the shield, and Harry's heart leapt as the shield expanded, turning green -

\- and then he saw a point of the light start to pass through the shield, and lunged forward, knocking the girl down, feeling the spell whoosh over his head.

Anitia lay panting beneath him, and Harry slowly stood up, reluctant to turn back to the Dark Lord who was by the sound of it walking towards him.

A hand clenched on his shoulder, and Harry stiffened. "Harrikon," the voice said, deadly soft, "it appears the shield failed."

Taking a deep breath, Harry whiled around, his shoulder twisted awkwardly as the hand didn't let go. "Let her live," he said, his face set.

Voldemort raised one eyebrow. "You nearly killed yourself trying to save her when we agreed she would die if the shield did not work. _Avada_ -"

Harry grabbed the man's wand hand, and tensed as her felt the man stiffen, his red eyes acquiring a murderous gleam. "Please." He let go of the man's wand arm, though. He wasn't quite suicidal.

Voldemort's eyes took on a calculating gleam. "You do so often ask for favours, Harrikon," he said in a mocking tone. "What would I get out of allowing her to live?"

Right. He needed to play this carefully … "What do you want?"

Not the best thing to say.

The Dark Lord's mouth pulled up in a smile. "I want, Harrikon, your pledge to service."

"W - what?"

"Oh, not right now. Marking a twelve year old would raise too many eyebrows. But I want your pledge that on your fourteenth birthday, you will take the oath and become a Death Eater."

He glanced at Anitia, curled up against the wall, her large eyes following the argument avidly. They were bargaining with a life, and Harry's stomach turned.

"Seventeen - I'll be of age then. And I want Anitia released," he challenged.

Voldemort considered, the tips of his fingers stroking his wand in a motion that was both mesmerising and threatening. "Davidson will be released into the care of a family and will attend Hogwarts as of next year. She will be treated like any normal mudblood taken under adoption. And in return, you will be Marked after you kill someone."

"That'll be never then."

The smirk he got in response made him take a small step back.

Voldemort waved his wand, and a circle of pulsing light sprang up between us. "I, Lord Voldemort, swear that Anitia Davidson will be treated as if she were never convicted with regards to her bodily health, and will be sent to Hogwarts in September next year."

The circle pulsed, sending a jet of light to the end to Voldemort's wand.

Touching his holly wand to the circle, Harry recited, "I, Harrikon Evans, swear that I will, upon killing someone, take the mark."

The circle pulsed again, connecting the two in a flash of white light before disappearing.

There was a small burn on Harry's left arm and, frowning, he pulled up his sleeve to check the swearmark. Usually they were supposed to appear on the back of the neck …

The circle, made out of the words he had recited, were burned in red just below his wrist.

Voldemort had pulled back his own sleeve, Harry noticed, though he didn't see his swearmark before the fabric fell forward again. He pulled his own back down, thanking the stars that binding pledges didn't actually require a true name.

But as they left the building, Anitia following behind them, he couldn't stop the niggling doubt that his assertion of never being marked wasn't quite true.

After all, wouldn't it be funny if the oath kicked in after he killed the Dark Lord himself?

* * *

Voldemort thought that had gone rather well.

Harrikon had, understandably, been horrified, but the important part was that he'd accepted it - and accepted the vow.

He would kill soon enough.

And if he didn't, well, Voldemort would get him begging to be allowed to kill. The boy would be turned from any light influence until being a Death Eater was his greatest wish.

After dropping the sullen Harrikon back at Hogwarts, Voldemort took Anitia to his office, pointing her to one of the wooden chairs in the corner. "Sit."

She glared, but sat.

Voldemort walked down the hall to Malfoy's office, not bothering to knock.

Lucius looked up and then sprang out of his chair, bowing deeply. "My Lord," he said, "What can I do for you?"

"It is my understanding, Lucius, that you have not taken in any mudbloods."

Lucius paled slightly.

"Even though I recommended one to you years ago."

"I apologise, my Lord. Granger -"

Waving away the apologies, Voldemort interrupted, "Granger is beating your son at school as I understand it, but she is of no consequence now. I wish for you to take in a resistance child who is now in a protected position. She is called Anitia Davidson and, although half-blood, will be going to Hogwarts in September as a muggleborn under the care of the Malfoy family, and she will be pleased about it." Voldemort leant forwards. "You may not physically harm the girl, but I am giving you the job of making sure she will never think to run back to her family. You also may not use Legilimency. Do you understand?"

Lucius looked like he'd been hit, but nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"Come," the Dark Lord said, leading Lucius back to his office.

Davidson was still sitting in the chair. Good.

"Kneel," he ordered, and though defiance surged up to her eyes, the months in the cell had worn her down; she knelt.

Taking her left arm, Voldemort smirked at the soft gasp which emanated from Lucius. "Repeat after me: I swear allegiance to you, my Lord."

There was new terror in her eyes. "I - I swear allegiance to you … my Lord."

Touching his wand into the soft skin of the underside of her left arm, Voldemort continued, "I give you my life, my wealth and my wand."

Swallowing, she murmured, "I give you … my life … my … wealth, and my wand."

" _Morsmordre_ ," Voldemort cast, and the mark blossomed on her skin. She doubled over, gasping in pain, and a sharp keening sound emerged from the back of her throat.

Stepping back, Voldemort picked up Davidson's discarded wand and tossed it to Lucius. "Take her home."

Bowing, Lucius did as requested, levitating the girl out to go the nearest floo point.

Well that was one loose end cleared up. The girl would be so stricken with guilt that she's turn to the dark so as to never have to face her family.

And when they saw her on the Hogwarts lit, he might even catch some of them when they tried to break her out.

* * *

The days rushed by as Harry threw himself into his studies.

Voldemort had left him alone since that day, but Harry could sense the red eye son him at meals and when they passed in the corridors.

His classmates had been ignoring him even further - ignoring except for the missing books, the taunts thrown at him when they were in a group, the snide looks and smirks.

And so it was the Weasley twins found him hiding in a deserted shortcut, books around him.

"Well, what do we have here," one of them said.

"It looks like a sad little elite duelist to me, Fred."

"What should we do?"

"We could say hello."

"Hi!" they both said, plopping themselves down either side of him.

Harry looked up reluctantly. "Hello."

The one on the left - Fred, he thought - grinned widely. "We thought we'd find you here. We have -"

"- a business proposition for you," finished George.

Harry put his books down.

"You see, we're pranksters. And that means we prank people," George explained, winking as Harry rolled his eyes.

"And we've come across a bit of a problem. See, we took a bet with a friend a few weeks ago that we would prank our dear Lord of he managed to get himself the commentator position after the latest fiasco where he got a month's detention with McGonagall."

"And the wee problem is, McGonagall was in a bit of a flap and said yes."

Harry smiled slightly. This sounded interesting …

"So," Fed said, "We noticed you're almost on good terms with the Dark Lord. And all we need you to do is get something into his drink at some point."

Closing his eyes, Harry laughed. They were actually going to do it … Merlin it seemed so ridiculous. "What would it do?"

"Well, that's a surprise."

"Can you do it? We'll pay you in pranking materials to get all those nasty yearmates off your back."

That was a possibility … Harry's mind flooded with thoughts of his classmates' books going missing, or potions exploding or and work sabotaged .. This could be quite fun.

"Deal," he said decisively, and the twin grinned, George handing him a small vial of colourless liquid.

"Thanks, mate," they said together.

"Te materials will be on your trunk by tomorrow," Fred added, and both scampered off.

So. How to do this.

Slowly packing away his books, Hay thought quickly. Voldemort's evening drinks always arrived as either a goblet of water of a bottle of wine …

…. Bottles that, now he thought about it, he had seen in his office.

Right then.

Harry stood up, vial in his pocket, and after dropping his bags off at his silent dormitory, headed to the Dark Lord's office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit short, sorry ... but hope you liked :)


	13. The Rebels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Back agin! Sorry for hiatus but exams, ya know.. Anyways here's your chappie.

Harry spent the best part of an hour sitting in an alcove outside Voldemort's office.

The first ten minutes were spent rapidly making plans, ranging from going in to ask a favour (bad) to blowing something up (also bad). In the end he decided on a variation of the initial thought of explosives - causing a distraction, but in a way less likely to lead back to him and cause suspicion.

Sneaking out of the castle was easy. Liberating a half-dozen Nifflers from their cage in the Care of Magical Creatures shed was even earlier. And setting them free in the kitchens positively laid-back.

Hiding behind the statue in the alcove again, Harry smiled when he heard footsteps and then Snape's voice asking to be let in. Shortly after, two sets of footsteps hurried out, and Harry caught the sentence "house-elves said it is utter carnage in the pantry" before they went out of earshot.

"Utter carnage" was about right - there were enough shiny plates in the kitchen to make the whole place a mess, and that wasn't even counting cutlery.

He did hope that Voldemort wouldn't kill the Nifflers, though. They were very cute.

Now for phase two. Taking out the small bottle of polyjuice Harry had swiped from Snape's stores earlier, he added the hair he'd found on the floor (and had checked was human - he wouldn't want to be turning into a rat anytime soon) and swallowed it down, grimacing at the taste of old shoes.

The books had described a bubbling sensation, but not the nausea, and Harry doubled over with his hands over his mouth until the unpleasant sensation left. Straightening up, he conjured a mirror, and smiled. He appeared to be a small blonde boy who he believed he had seen in Hufflepuff uniform. Tapping his wand on his tie to turn the stripes yellow, Harry strolled up to the office door, adding a run at the end and a tearful, stricken expression.

"Our Lord told me to fetch a scroll from his desk," Harry told the snakes in a panicked voice, "he said to let me in now…"

" **What do you think, Arnold?** " said one snake. " **He looks like a first year**."

" **And a Hufflepuff at that** ," the other replied, and the door opened.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry jogged in, casting a wary glance around the room for Nagini - not there, thank Merlin. If she had then that would have been the end of the plan.

The wine bottles were stacked up on shelves on the corner, and Harry chose a half-empty one at the front to pour in the liquid given to him by the twins. Hopefully it would be drunk soon …

Now to deflect supspicion onto the Rebels. Harry tried to lift the desk lid, but it was locked. "Alohomora," he cast, but unsurprisingly that didn't work. Perhaps this one? "Disclavis." Harry waved his wand in a figure-of-eight pattern followed by a flick, mind concentrating on the image of a key. There was a click; Harry filed away that particular unlocking charm for later. Opening the desk, Harry took out the first scroll he saw and rolled it out. Runes - nothing useful. Replacing it for another, Harry quickly grew frustrated; every single one was written in runes.

Okay. Casting a time charm, Harry ran a hand through his hair as it told him he'd been in there three minutes. He'd calculated he would have at least seven, but he didn't want to cut it close at all …

Perhaps it would be better just to grab a load and hope one was important enough to be feasibly taken by the Rebels? Yes, Harry decided. He had told the snakes one, so after grabbing six thick ones he stuffed five of them into various places in his robes, re-locking the desk with a Colliportant. Phase three: done.

Now to get out.

Taking a last glance around to ensure he had disturbed nothing except the papers, he turned and exited the door, hoping to hell that the Dark Lord wasn't behind it.

He wasn't, but the snakes hissed at him as he went. " **Look at the pathetic-puff,** " one said, and the other laughed. Really, the prejudice surrounding Hufflepuffs was as bad as around muggleborns - though to be fair they never seemed to do anything important.

With luck, the snakes might not even tell Voldemort about the visit until the missing papers were discovered. Although it would inevitably come out eventually, so he wouldn't be able to use the same trick twice.

Harry whizzed around the castle, hiding the scrolls in batches of two: one pair behind a statue on the fourth floor, one in a small secret passage, and one transfigured into a cushion and placed under one of the sofas in the Ravenclaw common room. Luckily it was late enough that the halls and common room were empty, and he crept into the dorm to avoid waking the others.

Hopefully he'd see the results soon. And then as a bonus he'd have prank materials to get back anyone who made fun of him behind his back.

 

He did get results … but not in the way expected.

The morning after the break-in, a notice appeared on the board that every student must attend breakfast. As soon as a headcount had been done in the hall, Voldemort rose.

"It has come to my attention that my office was entered without my permission last night," he said, voice measured, eyes scanning the hall. Harry did his best to make his expression attentive yet blank from panic or apprehension. "The person was disguised-" _damnit, he isn't going to accuse the Hufflepuff_ \- "and proceeded to steal some documents." A collective intake of breath filled the hall. "A school-wide search is currently happening. When the documents are found, any students under suspicion will be taken into custody immediately. if anyone has information regarding the documents, please raise your hands, and you will be rewarded." Voldemort paused, his red eyes locking with Harry's for a moment before resuming their sweep of the hall. "If you were involved, come forward now and I will be lenient. Continue to hide …" Harry swallowed involuntarily "… and I will not."

It was then Harry realised he probably should have made a plan that didn't include trying to deflect blame onto the Rebels and should have left the damn things where they were. He could have taken one of Voldemort's ivory statues, perhaps, and played it off as a carefully-set-out dare.

Or even just left everything and have the results of the potion speak for themselves.

_Idiot_.

The hall waited in complete silence until the doors opened to admit Avery and two other wizards in Death Eater robes. Four scrolls were in their hands, and Harry took a deep breath to try to steady his breathing, hands shaking under the table.

The three men handed the scrolls to Voldemrt, speaking quietly enough that Harry could not make any words out, though he assumed they were telling him where they'd found them. Please not Ravenclaw tower.

The Dark Lord opened the papers up slightly before flicking his wand at them to make them disappear, presumably back to his office.

"Two scrolls are still missing," he said, lips thin. "I assure you that when they come to light the culprit will be killed unless he comes forward with them within the next hour." With that he strode out, the room so quiet you could hear a Knut drop.

Snape told them all to go straight to lessons, and the sick feeling in Harry's stomach did not relent until hours later when a detection charm told him the cushion was still under the sofa. They'd only found the others. Thank-bloody-Merlin.

He did wait several days to discretely give the twins a thumbs-up, though. Just in case he was being watched.

 

Several weeks later, Voldemort sat at his desk in Hogwarts with his head resting on his hands.

There had been no progress on the Rebels. No progress on the missing scrolls, one of which was a letter from the Fench Minister and one a list of known pro-rebels in the Ministry - very important documents, certainly far too important to lose.

Nagini, sensing his mood, slithered up. " **Master**?" he didn't answer, but stroked her head.

He should probably check with the professors on how Harrikon was doing … but it was late. He would ask them later.

The pile of paperwork on the corner of his desk seemed to stare at him.

Perhaps he could finish off that delightful bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky. He had most certainly earned a few glasses, especially for , he would do that.

Pouring himself a tumbler, he slid the pile towards him, most only needing a quick signature.

Ten minutes in, one of the alarm charms went off.

A quick flick showed it was the one he had set on the beach in Wales. Excitement rising, he twirled on his cloak and Apparated to the beach.

At first glance, nothing seemed to be happening, but through the rain he caught a glimpse of a light - possibly a wand, possibly a muggle torch. Pulling on the link towards his Death Eaters, he summoned a dozen to the spot.

"Capture," he ordered in a whisper. "I want them alive."

His followers nodded, spreading out. Two minutes later, there was a scream, and several Lumos Maximas sent up revealed six figures kneeling around a wooden sailboat on the edge of the beach. Voldemort moved towards the group, all with a wand or two trained on them. By the looks of it, one had come in on the boat - no, two - and the others were meant to be departing. Illegal emigration. A feat which shouldn't be possible through the wards.

"Remove their hoods," he hissed, and glee flooded him as the red hair and freckled face of Charlie Weasley was revealed. At last. The others, he didn't recognise, but they would surely all have information.

The Dark Lord stepped forward, relishing the badly concealed fear on Weaseley's face as his dug his wand into his neck. "Where," he asked softy, "is the rest of your family?"

Weasley spat on his feet.

" _Crucio_."

He was impressed by how long the man lasted before screaming.

"Where are they," Voldemort asked again, tone the same as before.

"In Azkaban, thanks to you," Charlie glared, limbs shaking still from the curse.

Then the redhead blinked, a surprised chuckle falling out of his mouth. Voldemort raised an eyebrow, but the blood traitor continued to laugh, edging towards hysterics. The other five slowly looked up from the floor and more laughs filled the air.

Malfoy coughed. "My Lord -"

"Yes, Lucius?" he hissed.

"Er," Lucius hesitated, but the irritation must have shown on Voldemort's face as he stumbled over his words. "You - you've gone pink, my Lord."

_What_.

Conjuring up a mirror, Voldemort kept his face impassive although fury bubbled up inside him. His usually bone-white face was, indeed, pink - a bright fuscia colour. As was his naturally brown hair, his teeth, lips, and even his hands.

Weasley was laughing so hard he wasn't making a noise. Voldemort slashed his wand at him, a long cut appearing down his face, though that just seemed to make him laugh harder.

"Take them to the interrogation cells," he said, "and get all information they have."

He barely waited for the "Yes, my Lord," from Lucius before Disapparating back to Hogwarts.

He paced the room, growling as he saw his full reflection in the glass of the window. First the scrolls, then this - it had to be a potion of some sort as he would have felt any spells. Potions, however, could take anything between a second and a week to act, so identifying the source would be nigh on impossible without knowing the potion; the only information he did have was that it was benign enough not to have set off his personal wards.

Counter-spells had no effect, although he had had little hope.

To Snape it was.

And if the man said anything about it he would be holding in his entrails with his hands.

 

The third week of October, Harry was cornered by the twins.

"Did you give it to him?" Fred (or possibly George) asked.

Harry nodded. "In his wine. He should have had it by now I think, though I haven't been in his office since."

The twins exchanged a look. "When was the last time we saw him? Over a week ago-"

"Two and a half," Harry corrected.

George tilted his head, thinking. "It lasts a month at least. He has to show his face at Halloween."

"What is it?" Harry asked again, but got only a wink in answer.

"Thanks, mate!" Fred called as they left.

Well he would surely find out soon.

 

Halloween, however, was devoid of Dark Lords.

The celebrations were really quite low-key, though the feast did have a lot of treacle tart, which was nice.

Harry was reading a letter from Lily, detailing nothing except that she was still searching for a job, in his dorm that night when a loud bang made him sit up. Moving to the window, he could see light from the hall reflected in puddles and the rain - the doors were clearly open. And it was almost midnight - unusual indeed.

As he watched, two figures moved out of the castle and headed towards the forest, and a gust of wind made both hoods fly back - Harry gasped as the Dark Lord's face was illuminated by the full moon for the second it took him to put his hood up.

It was bright pink!

_So that was the prank_.

A pity he hadn't turned pink when in the great hall. But he would tell the twins they'd succeeded.

The figures disappeared into the forest, and while Harry went back to bed, it took him a while to sleep.

After all, there was a Quidditch match coming up.

He did fall asleep before Voldemort returned with two figures in two, one oddly-shaped, unconscious and being levitated by the other. Hence he was not awake to see the capture of Remus Lupin.

 

The day of Ravenclaw's first match dawned cold but clear. Captain Jones paced the changing room with all teammates lined up in front of her for the pep talk.

"I know it's 'only' Hufflepuff, but they have three good players this year. Cedric Diggory especially - Konor, he's your opponent, be careful. You're faster but he's got more experience and won't fall for a Wronski Feint, so don't try it."

That was unfortunate. In the last match, the one which secured them the cup, Harry had again flattened the other team's seeker with that trick.

All too soon they were on the pitch, the starting whistle blowing. Harry circled above the pitch, doing his best to ignore the other players surrounding the quaffel.

Ten minutes in, they were twenty points in the lead but the snitch was nowhere to be seen. Diggory was doing the same thing, so the two seekers formed opposite sides of a circle over the pitch.

A glimpse of pink in the stands made Harry look, but the Dark Lord was not there - it was just some woman in a pink cardigan, as far as he could see.

Looking back, Harry's heart sank as he saw Diggory speeding towards the hoops. Taking off after him, Harry caught up slowly, but still couldn't see where the snitch was -

Diggory made a sharp turn just before a post, and Harry only just managed to follow, the back of his broom hitting the side and sending him into a spiral for a few seconds until he brought his broom back under control. Diggory had slowed, a sheepish grin on his face, and gone back into circling … blood rushed to Harry's face as he heard the commentator say, "Well, look at that! A horizontal version of the Wronski Feint performed by Diggory there, and Evans nearly fell for it, would have if not for his superb reflexes - oh, now is this real, Diggory's speeding towards the ground -"

What? Harry took off after the other seeker, ignoring Lee Jordan's commentary. Surely he wouldn't try two feints in a row, this had to be it -

A flash of gold in the corner of his eye had Harry pulling up and changing direction. Obviously Diggory had tried two feints - "experienced" hadn't been enough warning.

The snitch was hovering above the Slytherin stands, and Harry lay down on his broom, flying as fast as possible towards it - it moved, and he had to yank the broom to avoid crashing - Diggory was on his tail, now - he was gaining - the snitch was meters away, no, centimetres - Harry reached out -

"And Evans has the snitch! Ravenclaw wins 230 to 60!"

Grinning, Harry landed gently on the ground, nodding to Diggory in respect when he come down seconds later. "Good game," he offered.

Diggory smiled slightly, though he was clearly dissapointed. "Yeah, you too." He glanced towards the stands, wincing slightly.

Harry was swept up in the Ravenclaw crowd before he could see what Diggory was looking at, people who'd been mocking him since he moved up two years now clapping him on the back. Harry lasted ten minutes into the hypocrisy before leaving for his familiar haunt, the library.

 

Lily Evans sat in her garden in the afternoon sun, covered up in a coat and scarf due to the November chill.

She had still not found a job. And while she had saved up over the past ten years, it was only enough to last another few weeks of food for both her and Sirius.

Sirius, of course, had seen this, and was at that moment in the nearby Muggle village searching for a job.

She didn't know what to do. The best thing would be to flee to the continent, but Sirius had said that the last contact he'd had in that part of the Resistance went quiet over a month ago - possibly captured, and they couln't take that risk.

And Harry - oh, Harry. It was very clear that he loved Hogwarts, loved learning, and if they fled he would have to leave. And France was becoming a shaky ally now, with Voldemort slowly worming contacts into their ministry - Beuxbatons would not be safe at all.

Although, really, what could be more dangerous than Hogwarts?

She would decide in the Christmas holidays. That way she wouldn't have to break Harry out of school too.

Footsteps sounded, and Lily turned to see Srius running up, face stricken. "They've got Remus," he panted. Seeing her face crease in confusion, he explained: "I got a patronus from Bill Weasley. He said Remus was on a mission involving going to Hogsmeade but the Wolfsbane potion didn't work and he was captured in the forest on the night of the full moon."

"But - the Rebels - they knew he was alive?"

Sirius nodded, jaw clenching. "I assume he was on a secret mission. Weasley said he's being held at the Ministry, not the mountain - we can break him out."

Lily stood up. "Do we know where in the Ministry?"

"The most likely place would be one of the lower levels, but he won't be in Mysteries, the Unspeakables weren't doing prisoners last time we heard."

If she did this, she'd be in - in the resistance with the Rebels officially. In more danger by far.

But it was Remus.

"Okay. Now?"

Sirius nodded.

Lily ran inside to grab her old cloak, the one stuffed at the back of her cupboard - the one she'd worn for Order missions, and had been wearing when James died.

She threw it on, the hood causing a dark glamour to appear on her face, casting it as if in deep shadow. Her holster was slid on her forearm, wand slotting in as neatly as it always had.

"I'm ready," she said, going out to where Sirius was waiting, his glamour blonde and blue-eyed.

"Main entrance?" she asked, and upon affirmation held out her arm for side-along Apparition.

There was no going back now.

 

Voldemort appeared back in the hall in late November.

His face was no longer pink, although Harry did think his hair was a shade darker - as if dyed. Glancing over to the Weasley twins, he saw them with their heads together, whispering frantically.

Later that day, Harry was stopped by a hand on his arm in the corridor.

"You are to go to our Lord's office at eight," Snape said, face as dour as ever. "Do not be late."

"Yes, professor," Harry muttered, and the man went.

For someone who, according to Lily, had Rebel sympathies, Snape appeared very much the stereotypical Death Eater - except perhaps with a little more influence, as shown by his position of headteacher.

Harry went back to the dormitory after dinner, lying on his bed with the curtains drawn and a book on Spellcrafting in his hands. His classes were going well, especially the practical ones; it was mostly history and theory that he needed to brush up on.

He should be able to take OWLs in most of his subjects, and certainly PIEs in the new ones - he could probably take the Ancient Runes one now, as he'd put so much work into trying to decrypt the scrolls he'd taken (they were in a mixture of different runic languages, presumably one the Dark Lord had made up himself, and were nigh on impossible to figure out).

Though he would prefer to self-study more; in healing, aside from going to Madam Pomfrey a few times, the material was easy enough to do by himself and really, the actually lessons were so boring now that he no longer got to torment Malfoy in Defence.

Selena wormed her way under his hand and he stroked her head as he thought. In Dark Arts they were supposed to be doing Unforgivables after Christmas - that would be exciting.

Perhaps that was what Voldemort wanted to talk about? Harry couldn't think of anything else the man would want to ask.

Selena now pretending to be a scarf around his neck, Harry went back to his book. Yes, the meeting was probably nothing to worry about.

The clock ticked by, eight o'clock drawing near as Harry struggled not to go to sleep. His bed was really comfy - but he couldn't. Bloody Dark Lord.

At ten to, Harry reluctantly got up, sliding into his winter boots. The castle was growing colder as December drew closer; he would need his lined cloak soon.

This time of the evening seemed to be prime time to pass alcoves with a pair of students in them. Harry rolled his eyes in the direction of whoever he came across, even though by the sounds of it they were too busy to notice.

He came in sight of the snakes guarding the door at precisely one minute to eight on his watch. They didn't talk this time, just glanced at each other then opened the door, and -

\- Selena moved slightly from where she'd fallen asleep around his neck and Harry went white.


	14. Breakout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya - this isn’t actually a new chapter its about a year old but posted on fanfiction but not here by accident. Might be a real new one coming soon! -SR

The Dark Lord was sitting at his desk, hands laced together. He gestured to the chair in front of him. “Good evening, Harrikon. Sit.”

“Evening, my Lord,” Harry replied, obediently doing as instructed. _Please don't move_ , he implored of Selena silently. 

Voldemort studied him, a certain … speculative look in his eyes, Harry thought. “How are your classes going?”

As he'd thought. “Fine, my Lord. I am confidant that I will be able to take exams in most if not all by the end of the year.”

“Good.” He didn’t say anything for a minute, the silence causing a prickle of sweat to form on Harry’s forehead; every moment meant more time for Selena to be noticed - please stay asleep - 

“Have you, perchance, heard anything from the other students on the topic of my missing scroll?”

Harry blinked. “No, my Lord. Nothing but speculation,” he lied, forcing his breathing to even out. 

Voldemort nodded slowly. “Do tell me if you her anything, no matter how trivial it seems.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

He studied Harry for a moment before suddenly changing the topic. “I would like you to start preparation for the competitions - especially the duelling competition.”

Harry frowned. He was already starting preparations just by his extra studying - did Voldemort particularly want him to do well? he opened his mouth to query, but movement in the corner of the room caught his eye; Nagini was slithering out from behind one of the chairs. A chill ran down his back. _Please_ \- 

**“I smell a young one** ,” she hissed, and Harry’s hopes disappeared. 

A crease appeared in Voldemort’s forehead. “ **Where**?” 

Nagini motioned towards Harry with her tail. “ **On the child**.”

An irrational prickle of irritation at being called a child warred with utter panic. Harry was aware that he should say something, make a last-ditch excuse, but was frozen, staring at the desk. 

“ **Is it now** ,” Voldemort murmured. Switching back to English, he asked, “is there something you’ve been hiding, Harrikon?”

 _Don't let him know you’re a parseltongue_. 

“Sir?” Confused expression. Harry braved looking up. 

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “Nagini tells me there is a snake on your person - care to explain?”

 _Crap_. 

“Erm. No?” 

Idiot. Why had he said that. 

Frantically grasping for an excuse as the Dark Lord raised an unimpressed eyebrow, Hary very nearly breathed a sigh of relief as a solution came to him in the form of the Hogwarts lost of acceptable pets. 

“I, erm, I found her in the holidays. And snakes aren’t on the pets list but I couldn’t leave her at home,” Harry stuttered, willing his cheeks to redden instead of being the bloodless colour he knew they were. 

Voldemort nodded in faux understanding. “I see. Did it not perhaps occur to you to ask for special permission?” when Harry shook his head, he pressed on: “Especially when taken into account I myself have a serpentine familiar?”

“… sorry, sir. I mean, my Lord.” 

“Hmm.” The man held out his hand. “May I?”

There was a glint in the man’s eyes that made Harry hesitate, but he reached up to lift Selena away from his neck. Feeling the loss of warmth, she woke up, tongue flicking out. “ **Har** -” she stopped, eyes opening as she smelt the presence of both a larger snake and the Dark Lord. She hissed as Harry placed her gently in Voldemort’s hand, but curled around the appendage nonetheless. 

“ **Hello, little one,** ” Voldmeort hissed. Harry forced his face into a puzzled but intrigued mask to hide the terror that she would let something slip. “ **How did you get here?** ”

“ **On his shoulders,** ” Selena replied, and Harry had to force himself from chuckling. “ **How did you think, human?** ”

Voldemort looked slightly taken aback in the face of rudeness - Harry supposed most snakes probably worshipped the ground he walked on. “ **And does your master have any secrets aside from you, my lovely?** ”

Harry tensed. 

“ **None of your business, Dark Lord** ,” Selena told him, slithering off his hand and back onto Harry. It could have been his imagination, but he did think Voldemort’s hand moved slightly as if to grab her tail before thinking better of it. 

“Very loyal familiar you have there,” Voldemort murmured. 

Harry just nodded.

“You may keep her,” he decreed, although there was a definite flash of irritation briefly written on his face - annoyed that Selena hadn’t given up any details?

“Thank you.” Harry draped Selena back around his neck. 

“Now, as I was saying - last year you placed somewhere around thirthieth overall, taking all competitions into account. I want you to cut that in half, in addition to passing through to the eighth round - no, no arguments.” Harry closed his mouth. “Given that it will be up against the same people, mostly, and last year’s seventh-years are now the eighth round, you should have no problem getting there.”

Harry considered. He did have point. “Where will I be starting, as a second year or a fourth year?”

“A second year, of course. Until you have all you classes up to a particular age group you wil start with whom you share your lowest class group with.”

Well that was annoying. Voldemort was probably doing it just so he got to watch Harry in more duels. 

“You may leave.”

Harry nodded sharply and got up, being careful not to dislodge Selena from his neck. Neither he nor the Dark Lord said anything a she left the office.

 

 

Voldemort tapped his fingers on the table. Evans had been particularly interesting tonight - well worth a rewatch in his pensive. 

Striding over to the cupboard the object was in, Voldemort pulled way the strand of memory to place it in the glistening bowl before touching his nose to the substance. Proppelled to the start of their meeting, he could now see again how tense the boy was - pale as a sheet as well, and going paler as soon as his snake was scented by Nagini. Although it did seem as if he knew nothing about the scrolls; even on the second hearing, he sounded befuddled that Voldemort was even asking him about the matter. 

Voldemort leaned forward as Evans straightened slightly when the snake made her sarky reply. Hmm. A deeper bond than previously thought, perhaps? Many people did claim to understand their familiar’s facial expressions… 

It must be - the only other explanation for the reaction would be that the boy understood Parseltongue, which was completely impossible. 

He would have to watch out for the snake, though - she could certainly understand him and might be able to use motions or other methods to convey information to her owner. 

He exited the pensieve deep in thought. Evans was hiding something, he must be - otherwise why would his pet be so defensive? And judging by how long he’d managed to keep a snake secret, whatever he was not saying would be difficult to find out. 

Shelving it onto thoughts for another day, Voldmeort turned back toward the file of reports of the interrogations of Charlie Weasley and his compatriots - mot of them had completely broken, Weasley and one Lydia Kiadas the only two that still had information. 

They would break soon. It was just a matter of time, and if his top Death Eaters somehow managed to fail he would step in, and no one had even withstood his interrogation for more than a few days. 

As soon as it was done, they would be put on trial - no, a fake trial, and then death row. And on the topic of trials, he really needed to get the other Rebels he had captured either legally dead or sentenced to Azkaban - they were all still in holding cells. 

Perhaps it was worth sparing some. Just to keep up the pretence that this was fair state. 

Decided, Voldemort sat down to give his signature to torture and execution.

 

 

Sirius Black strode into the ministry with a grin on his face. 

By Merlin, it had been a long time. 

The marble floors were just as dirty as he remembered, cleaning beneath a Death Eater’s job description. What was different was the centrepiece: instead of the golden fountains he remembered, a throne of carved muggles, their faces all in petrified agony, stood there with the caption: MAGIC IS MIGHT. 

_Disgusting_. 

Sirius tore his gaze away, not wanting to look out of place, and continued down toward the lifts. He was disguised with several glamours to make him look as average as possible - brown hair, dull blue eyes, the pale skin of an office worker - and was pleased to notice the eyes of real ministerial workers sliding off him without a second’s thought.

Lily was similarly disguised and walked a short way behind him; close enough to nip into the lift with him before the doors closed but far enough away that no one would assume they were together. 

The lift had only one other occupant, a short, rather portly man who didn't look either of them in the eye and scurried out at level three. The lift continued downwards, the only sound seeming to be the clanking of gears and Sirius’ heartbeat.

“Level six,” the disembodied voice announced, and the doors slid open to reveal an empty corridor. Their intelligence had suggested this would be the most likely place for them to be temporarily holding Remus but they had no way of knowing exactly where - they would have to search manually.

The tiny team stepped out of the lift, and with a glance either side, Lily uncorked and swallowed the contents of a small bottle of murky grey liquid with a slight shudder. A few anxious moments later, she began to shrink, and within ten seconds an innocent-looking young girl stood before Sirius. 

Sirius glanced away as Lily quickly changed into a small robe, stuffing her now too-big clothes into her handbag. “Ready?”

Sirius nodded, tapping his head to disillusion himself. 

The plan was to attempt to find Remus without making contact, but if they were seen - as they probably would be - a “lost”child would arouse less suspicion than an adult. 

The duo crept soundlessly down the corridors, practiced movements from over a decade ago coming back with ease. The area seemed deserted with locked doors lining the walls but when Lily cast a _homenum revelio_ it told them there were people behind one of the doors. 

A simple alohamora failed to work, as did several more advanced unlocking charms, so they were forced to use a heat charm to burn through the lock. It wasn't visible from a distance but was clearly obvious upon closer look, so the clock was ticking.

This door led down another corridor and through another locked door with a sign: _Only Authrised Ministerial Workers Beyond This Point._

After this door, however, things got a little more interesting. 

Rows of cells lined the long stone passageway, most of them empty but Lily could hear a child’s crying from a short way down.

Sirius behind her, she ran down the corridor, scanning the inhabitants. 

Remus Lupin was about halfway down, and when Lily saw him she gasped in horrified surprise. The werewolf’s face was scratched up and bleeding, his left foot was bent at an unhealthy angle and he was curled up on the red-stained stone floor in a shivering ball. 

“Moony?” Sirius whsipered from behind her. Remus stirred, eyes opening to blankly focus on Lily. She gave a shaky smile. 

“Remus, its me. Lily.” Tears stung her eyes at his state but she tried not to let it show. 

She saw Sirius remove his disillusion charm from the corner of her eye, Remus’ bleary eyes widening at seeing his old friend.   
“S-Sirius?” He rasped. Lily winced at his voice; it was clear he had been tortured. 

Sirius nodded. “We’re here to get you, Moony.” He pointed his wand at the bars and with a jet of white flame they melted. Another spell wrapped bandages around Remus’ ankle, while another cleaned the grime and blood off his face. “Come on, up. We need to get out of here.”

Now a trio, they returned back the way had come slowly, hindered by Remus’ hobbling. 

“Please, help us,” a voice suddenly begged, quite loudly. Lily glanced at its source: a young man was pressed against the bars, his bruised face desperate. 

“Please,” another said - an old woman this time. 

More voices joined in. The cells only held a dozen or so, most prisoners held at the mountain, but together they made quite a cacophony which echoed down the corridor.

“Alright!” Lily decided. “Stand back,” she ordered, sending a dozen pinpointed flame charms in quick succession, melting the locks of each cell.

“We need to get out,” Sirius pushed. 

Lily nodded, both of them taking one of Remus’ arms until they were running with him between them, one hand on Lily’s shoulder and the other arm draped around the taller man’s neck. 

They met no one down the first corridor, nor the second. Lily’s hopes were rising as they neared the lift - maybe they could get out clean - but then they turned the last corner to see the blonde locks of Lucius Malfoy and the shorter brown fuzz of the minister. 

Lily’s wand was up before shock even registered on the men’s faces. “ _Confringo_ ,” she cast, Sirius’s _Bombarda_  combining with her jinx to blast the two men away from the entrance. Sirius pushed Remus in and pressed the closing button, Lily jumping in just in time and ducking an Impedimenta just before the doors closed. 

The time spent waiting for the lift to go up was the longest minute of Lily’s life. 

What was worse, she could feel the tingle that signalled a return to her normal self, but she had no time to do anything before the doors opened.

The Atrium was three hundred meters in length between the closest exit and the lift. It took the workers around five seconds to realise the odd trio were in fact Sirius Black, an raggedly-dressed escapee and a little girl whose hair was rapidly changing back to red. 

Hence they were halfway across before they had to stop to fend off attacks, weak jinxes coming their way at first. 

Interestingly, only half the crowd seemed to be doing anything; the other half just stood there, watching the fight, until the cry of “It’s Lily Potter!” went up and shock flitted across many faces, many backing away; Lily had her own little reputation during the war. 

Curses flew left and right, Lily covering Sirius as he dragged Remus into the floopoint and disappeared. She was on her own now.

The benefit of course, to being on your todd, was that you didn't have to worry about hurting anyone else. 

A fire ring helped clear the way to an apparition point she had spotted marked out on the floor, then a barge of sectumsempras allowed her to dive for it, the last thing in her vision being a pair of red eyes from one of the balconies, the Dark Lord’s curse flying towards her but passing through the point she had been milliseconds after her Disapparition. 

Nine people had already been killed that afternoon. In the rage that followed, that number raised to twelve. And then when the recaptured prisoners were rounded up and on their knees, it was raised to twenty; two had escaped, and two were too valuable.

 

 

On the final day of term, Harry sat at the table in the great hall, sipping pumpkin juice, when the owls flooded in and the room, almost as one, let out a collective gasp and avid whispering started up.   
Michael Corner, seeing Harry’s inquisitive face, passed over his copy of the Prophet after a quick skim. Nodding his thanks, Harry stated to read:

 _Charlie Weasley On Death Row, Lily Potter Alive And Releasing Prisoners: Is the Rebellion Becoming More Active?_  
By Rachel Biscquit _  
_

_Yesterday, news offices were spoiled for material as an official statement was released stating the result of Charlie Weasley’s trial. The twenty-year-old member of the Weasley clan was sentenced to execution by killing curse by the Wizengamot last week and was taken, along with the other rebels captured, to an undisclosed location.  
_

_Barely an hour later, there was a commotion in the Atrium: first three rebels appeared, one of them Remus Lupin who had been held prisoner in the lower levels of the ministry, and then another dozen prisoners. Lupin was accompanied by infamous Rebels Sirius Black and Lily Potter, and all three manage to fight their way out of the ministry. The search is very much back on for the trio.  
_

_Our Aurors managed to contain the other prisoners, with only two escaping - half-blood Chester Park and muggleborn Jamie Lancaster. It is unclear how may died attempting to escape.  
_

_We now call on you to report any suspensions of a sighting of any of these five, in addition to Harry Potter, as the sighting of his mother is a likely indication of his continued existence in the UK.  
_

_Pictures, rewards and descriptions can be found overleaf._

Harry finished reading and slowly folded up the paper, sliding it over the table to Michael, who tucked it away in his bag.  
The article plagued Harry’s thoughts through the morning, leaving him distracted through his care of magical creatures lesson and hence resulting in a small burn on his arm from an ashwinder egg. In pulling up his sleeve to cast a cooling charm on it, his swearmark was briefly exposed, and he yanked his sleeve back down after spotting one of the Gryffindor boys’ (whose name he didn't know) eyes on it. 

Students didn't leave until after three o’clock, and in his free hours after lunch Harry mechanically packed up his trunk and cleaned his area with a sweep of his wand. With half an hour to spare and still alone in the dorm, he fiddled with his wand for a bit, then upon checking his draws for anything forgotten he found the diary he had got off Malfoy weeks prior. 

Opening up the book, Harry could see upon closer inspection the cheap leather and worn spine. It had clearly been used, so why was it blank?

On a whim, he picked up a muggle biro from his drawer and drew a smiley face on the first page. 

The face stared at him for a second, then vanished. 

Harry blinked. Then he rested the pen on the page again, feeling slightly foolish so pausing before writing, “Is this magic?”

The words faded into the page just like the face, and then after a second, ink started flowing again, looping handwriting forming: _Yes. Who am I talking to?  
_

How very odd. A charm, perhaps?

_Harrikon Evans, Hi.  
_

_Harrikon? Unusual name. Is that Harri for short then?  
_

_Yes, sometimes. What’s your name?  
_

_Tom Riddle._

Of course - it was written on the diary cover. 

_How did you come across my diary?_ The book asked.

Harry thought for a second. _I won you in a fight_ , he wrote. 

_Oh? A dual?_

_Kind of,_ Harry replied. Footsteps sounded up the stairs. _I’ve got to go,_ he scribbled, then shut the diary and shoved it in his trunk before Michael entered. 

The other Ravenclaw nodded hello as he entered. “They’re taking luggage as soon as you go outside to wait for the carriages, so you’ll get a better seat if you go now.”

“Cheers.” Harry picked up his travelling satchel, which contained a set of muggle clothes and some advanced spellbooks he had borrowed from the library, and headed down. 

It was strange, in a way, how people most often avoided him almost subconsciously now. They parted slightly as he walked through the crowd outside to find a comfortable patch of frosty grass to sit on - though Selena’s head poking out from his collar probably helped. 

The horseless carriages arrived, and Harry managed to snag a compartment to himself again, spending the hours until King’s Cross trying to read his books. 

What if Lily had been caught? What if she was injured? In deeper hiding? The questions kept popping up unwelcome in his head. 

It was with no small amount of anxiety that Harry peered out the window when the train finally pulled up to the station.


End file.
